


Together Or Not At All

by RogueHunter06



Series: The Trichlors in Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Love Bites, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 382,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueHunter06/pseuds/RogueHunter06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What in the Maker's name were you supposed to do when you liked a woman?" It's a question Alistair has asked himself far too many times since unexpectedly meeting her in the Wilds. And though he knows he should be focusing on the Blight, he can't seem to help himself around her - from falling deeper into his attraction for her.  Ayla finds herself in a world far different from her home of Fallor, and in need of help to get back.  While she's more than willing to enjoy the company of the handsome Warden helping her, she has no interest in falling in love with him - or so she thinks.  Will go between a couple of POVs, and be a bit AU, but still follow major events.  Also has a Cousland origin with a background Cousland/Morrigan romance.  Will have mature/explicit content in future, the chapters containing it will have warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is my first fanfiction. Reviews are greatly appreciated, unless they are flames, then they will be ignored. If all goes well, I have an idea for a sequel involving the events of DA2. I will be switching between at least two POVs, possibly more, haven't decided yet. The first POV is Alistair's. There is, and will continue to be, original game dialogue included in the story from the main events, for the purposes of seeing character's reactions to it, including my OC and Warden character.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Alistair (sadly) and all events involving Dragon Age and Thedas. I own Ayla and all events involving her world and origins._

Together or Not at All

Chapter One: Who Are You?

There were a lot of things that Alistair had expected to find when he led the three recruits into the Korcari Wilds. He'd expected darkspawn, of course; part of the whole reason they'd gone into the wilds was to collect three vials of darkspawn blood for the Joining. He'd also expected wolves and the like, maybe some soldiers from patrols that had been sent out, possibly even to run across a Chasind warrior or two. They had, in fact, run into a soldier already, that they'd bandaged up and sent back to the camp at Ostagar.

But as they came over the crest of a large hill, he saw something he had not expected at all: a lone woman, fighting darkspawn. He could tell almost right away that she wasn't Chasind; nor did she seem to be a soldier of the King's army. She wore articles of clothing different from what he'd expect of either.

She had flame red hair, hanging in a long braid down her back; she wore a sky blue tunic emblazoned with a white crest he couldn't make out from this distance; and she wore a black, hooded cloak and black leggings, though of what material, he couldn't tell from here. She fought with dual weapons, much as Duncan liked to do, except rather than a longsword in one hand and a dagger in the other, she wielded matching curved swords. She fought well; as he watched, she blocked the incoming swipe from a darkspawn to her left with the sword in her left hand, and then pivoted in a circle to stab it in the back with her right hand sword. As it fell, she sliced its head off with a clean swipe from her left hand.

Alistair could see more darkspawn coming from behind her. "Come on, let's help her," he urged to the three recruits, and they rushed forward to engage the darkspawn that were starting to surround her.

She saw them coming, but hearing the darkspawn behind her, she turned to engage them instead. Alistair came up next to her and shield-bashed a genlock to the ground then ran it through with his sword. Aedan, the recruit from Highever, came up on her other side, and sliced off another genlock's head with his greatsword. An arrow thudded into the eye of a Hurlock, coming from the bow the cutpurse, Daveth, wielded, at the same time as Jory, the knight from Redcliffe, struck at the Hurlock with his greatsword. The woman was engaging another genlock with her swords. Between the five of them, they soon had the band of darkspawn defeated without much trouble. Alistair noted with relief that he couldn't sense any more immediately nearby.

He wiped his sword off on the grass, then sheathed it before turning to the woman, who was now a little behind him. She fell into a defensive posture, swords up, facing him. Alistair noted that Aedan and Jory had put away their swords, although Daveth, further back, had his bow trained on the woman, waiting for Alistair to signal him. Alistair held up his hands, palms out, in a peaceful gesture, though he kept his shield strapped to his arm, just in case.

"Whoa, hold on. I've no wish to harm you, or fight you, if I can help it. My name's Alistair. What brings you to the Wilds?"

This close, since there was only about ten feet separating them now, he could see that she was downright beautiful. She had blue-green eyes in a delicate face, with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and full pink lips that he found far more tempting than he should have. The white symbol on her tunic was a pair of white wings, crossed by two swords, not a crest he could ever recall seeing. The black cloak and leggings appeared to be made of fur, though what type he wasn't sure. He couldn't help but notice she had some rather nice curves, as well. Ordinarily, he'd be tripping over his tongue in the presence of such a beautiful woman, but because he was so curious about what she was doing here, he found himself surprisingly able to function.

She looked him over, assessing him with those eyes; apparently deciding he was no immediate threat, she dropped her stance, wiping off her swords as well, before sheathing them at either hip. "My name is Ayla, and I am not sure where I am," she admitted. "I . . . was in the woods near my home, and blacked out. When I came to, I was here, and was attacked by those creatures just before you came. Where did you say we are, exactly?"

_What?_ Alistair thought. _She must be joking, right? She blacked out in the woods and woke up in the middle of the Wilds? How is that even possible?_ He looked at her, thoughtfully, but her gaze seemed open and sincere. He couldn't see any sign that she didn't believe what she said.

"I realize how that must sound," she said, as though guessing what he was thinking, "but I assure you, that's all I can remember. I do not have the slightest idea where I am or how I got here in the first place."

"Well, you're in the Korcari Wilds, a swamp just outside of the ruins at Ostagar. Currently, the Wilds are overrun by darkspawn, as you can see." He nodded at the corpses surrounding them. "We're gearing up to fight the darkspawn horde at Ostagar. Most of the King's army is here, as well as the Grey Wardens. I'm a Grey Warden, myself; these three are recruits. That's Daveth with the bow, the bald one's Jory, and the one with the shiny armor is Aedan. We're fulfilling a couple of tasks in the Wilds before they can be allowed to join us."

Though she tried her best to mask it, he could see confusion in her eyes, though what about, he wasn't sure. Was she unfamiliar with the names of Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds, or had some of the rest of what he had said been confusing, as well?

"These creatures are . . . darkspawn, you say?" She nudged at the nearest corpse with the toe of her leather boot.

Alistair nodded. "Yes, you've never seen one?" It wasn't all that unusual for a person to have never seen a darkspawn. Usually they stayed in the Deep Roads, where the dwarves were, except for during times of Blight. In fact, he didn't think any of the recruits with him had seen one until they'd entered the Wilds.

"No, I can't say that I have," she answered quietly. "Nor have I heard of the places you speak of, I'm afraid. Could you tell me what . . . country we are in?"

Alistair could feel his eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. She should at least have heard of the Wilds, if not Ostagar. Could she truly be so far from home she didn't even know what country they were in? Yet, she still seemed sincere enough, if entirely uncertain of how he would react. "We're . . in Ferelden."

He watched her for any sign of recognition at that name, at least, but he couldn't see any. He was getting a little disturbed now; there was no way she couldn't have heard of Ferelden, everyone in Thedas knew at least a little about it. Had she maybe lost her memory?

"I must be quite far from home," she said at last, "and I'm afraid I have no idea how to get back."

Alistair opened his mouth to ask all the questions that were burning holes in his brain, when Aedan spoke up. "Sorry to interrupt, Alistair, but we shouldn't we get moving? We don't have a lot of time before dark to find those treaties, and there's going to be another battle soon, isn't there?"

Alistair looked at the position of the sun, and cursed inwardly. Aedan was right; there weren't many daylight hours left, and they still had to find the old Warden outpost that held the treaties Duncan had sent them for as well. Duncan had told him to be back by dark, if at all possible, as the horde was readying itself for another attack.

He looked back at Ayla. He couldn't very well leave her here, alone in the Wilds, surrounded by darkspawn. Especially when she had no idea where she was or how to get back to where she belonged. No, he'd had have to bring her along, he decided. "Come with us. We have one more task to take care of in the Wilds, then we'll be heading back to the army camp. Someone there might know how you can get back home. I'd escort you back right now, but I'm afraid we don't have the time."

She nodded. "Yes, thank you, I think that would be best. I doubt I have much choice, after all. I don't think these darkspawn will be willing to give me directions."

Alistair laughed in spite of himself. There were few things he appreciated more than a sense of humor. "No, they're not a very talkative or helpful bunch. Well, shall we be going then?"

"Lead the way."

Alistair slung his shield onto his back, and continued on in the direction the darkspawn had come from, motioning for the others to follow. According to the old map Duncan had given him, the abandoned outpost should be somewhere in the northeast. The recruits all fell into step behind them, though Ayla walked alongside him.

"So, if you don't mind my asking," she began, "what did you say you had brought your recruits into these Wilds for, again?"

"Well, they're not exactly my recruits. I'm the most junior member of the Wardens, at the moment, and my commander, Duncan, asked that I accompany them on these tasks. It's basically a final test, as it were, until they are allowed to join. The first task we'd already completed before we ran into you." _Thank the Maker,_ Alistair thought to himself. He wouldn't have relished having to explain to her why they were collecting the black ichor that passed for darkspawn blood into the vials. Because of that, he didn't bother elaborating. "The second task is to find an old Warden outpost we had to abandon many years ago. Duncan said there should be some treaties in a chest there, that will hopefully allow us to gather more aid to fight the Blight."

"And you think that those treaties will still be there?"

"Duncan said that they were in an enchanted chest, so they should be preserved, even if the rest of the outpost is not. I should tell you, also, in case you don't know, that if we run into more of the darkspawn, you should take care with their blood. If any gets into your own wounds, you would become tainted."

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Tainted? And what would that do to me?"

So she didn't know. Alistair had thought she wouldn't. There were so many things she should know, that were common knowledge, which she seemed to have no idea about. He had so many questions he would have to ask her when they got back to the camp. "It would make you ill; take over your body, until there was nothing left. From what I've heard, you may even change into a darkspawn yourself. There is no cure for it." Well, except becoming a Grey Warden, but he wasn't about to tell her that unless he had to. It would only complicate matters, anyway.

"That is . . . disturbing to hear. Thank you for telling me."

He nodded. "You're welcome."

They walked in silence after that. He imagined she was thinking over everything he'd told her so far, and he was concentrating on making sure they went in the right direction, as well as considering whom she could possibly be, and where she was really from.

As they made their way through the Wilds, they ran into several more roaming bands of darkspawn, which Alistair was always able to sense before they got too close. This gave them enough time to prepare, and they were effective enough not to sustain any serious injuries. Alistair handed out a few health poultices for the more minor wounds that they received. Finally, they spotted the ruins of a tower in the distance.

"That must be it there," Alistair said to the others. "Let's hope the treaties are still in there, as Duncan said."

They made their way through the ruined archway of the tower. "Let's split up and look around," Alistair told the recruits. "See if you can find a chest that might have what we're looking for."

They did as they were told; they all split up and began to search the tower. Ayla leaned against the tower wall, arms crossed, watching them. "Hey, I think I found it," Aedan called.

Alistair turned and walked over to the opposite side of the tower, the others following, to where Aedan was crouched before a chest that looked as if the top had been crushed. "It's empty," he said as they all reached him.

Before Alistair could say anything, he heard the sound of swords leaving their sheath at the same moment as a voice drawled, "Well, well, what have we here?"

Alistair whipped around. Ayla was behind him, turned towards the woman coming down the ramp of the tower, her swords drawn. The woman who had spoken was sauntering towards them. She was beautiful, he supposed, with dark hair pulled back in a bun, creamy skin, and a lithe, well-curved body. She seemed to know it, as well, for she wore barely anything to cover herself: a purple shirt, of sorts, which barely covered her breasts, and left everything else on her torso free, as well as a torn black leather skirt that showed flashes of legs. It was her golden eyes, cold, hard, and unyielding, which made her unattractive to him, as well as the fact he could feel her magic coming off her in waves, via his templar training.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones are long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" The woman continued, unconcerned with Ayla's swords or the fact that five people were staring at her. Alistair's hand was on the hilt of his sword, himself.

"What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?" She prompted when no one answered her.

"We are neither," Alistair answered her, since it didn't seem like she'd go away until he did. He didn't want to push a mage if he didn't have to. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."

"'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse. I have watched your progress for some time. Where do they go, I wondered, why are they here?" She had stopped directly in front of Aedan, for some reason, and seemed to be looking to him for her answer.

"Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others maybe be nearby," Alistair whispered to Aedan, sincerely hoping he was wrong about that fact.

The woman glared at him. "Are you afraid barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Yes, swooping is bad."

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is!" Daveth exclaimed, his voice cracking with fright.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies. Have you no minds of your own?" Suddenly, the woman turned her attention to Ayla, who had sheathed her swords, apparently deciding an attack wasn't imminent. Or maybe it was because he had yet to draw his sword, Alistair mused. "You there, women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Ayla blinked, glancing at Alistair briefly before answering, "I am Ayla, a pleasure to meet you."

"Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan." She turned her attention back to Aedan. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"

Alistair snapped to attention, anger burning in him. "Here no longer? You stole them didn't you? You're some kind of . . . sneaky . . . witch thief!"

Morrigan sniffed. "How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey property, and I suggest you return them," Alistair snapped. His hand had tightened on his sword hilt, though he was doing his best not to draw it. He still couldn't be sure that there weren't other people lying in wait for some signal from Morrigan.

"I will not, for twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer, if you wish; I am not threatened." Morrigan was glaring at him as much as he was at her, and he could easily believe she didn't feel frightened in the least of them.

"If you didn't remove them, do you know who did?" Aedan asked, calm and straightforward. Alistair glanced at him, surprised. Wasn't he worried about this strange woman who'd popped out of nowhere?

Morrigan looked back at him, as if equally surprised, and gave him a calculating once-over. "Twas my mother, in fact."

"Would you mind taking us to her, so we could get them back?" Aedan prompted.

Morrigan smiled suddenly. "There is a sensible request. I like you."

"I'd be careful," Alistair warned him. "First it's - 'I like you' - but then it's - zap! frog time." He heard Ayla laugh next to him, and couldn't help grinning in response.

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch," Daveth muttered from behind Alistair. He'd been going on about "witches of the wilds" since before they'd even entered the Wilds.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change," Jory responded. That was probably the first brave thing he'd said since they'd started, Alistair mused.

"Follow me then, if it pleases you," Morrigan said, ignoring the other two recruits as she turned and began to walk away. Aedan followed her without hesitation, so Alistair had no choice but to follow him.

Ayla fell in next to him as they followed Morrigan through the Wilds, and Daveth and Jory picked up the rear. "You don't trust her, do you?" Ayla murmured to Alistair. They were a little ways behind Aedan and Morrigan by now.

Alistair shook his head. "No, she's a mage, and I have a feeling her appearance was a little too convenient."

"How do you know she's a mage?" Ayla asked.

"I have some training as a templar, so I can sense a mage's abilities," Alistair answered. He looked over at her, and seeing the question in her eyes, he answered it before she even asked. "Templars are an order of knights who are trained to . . . neutralize a mage's ability, in case they become a danger to themselves or others. They are put in charge of guarding the mages in the Circle, to keep everyone protected. I never actually became one, though, before I joined the Wardens."

She nodded slowly, as though considering what he said. He had the feeling she wanted to ask more, but instead she said, "I think you're right about her timing being a little too convenient. She's after something, but I do not think you have a choice in the matter, if you need those treaties, anyway."

Alistair sighed. "You're right. If there's a chance I can get the treaties back, Duncan wouldn't be happy with me for passing it up. I just hope that whatever she wants, it's not more than we can afford to give."

"I will help you with whatever you need," she promised. "It is the least I can do."

Alistair flushed. "Thank you, but I really . . . haven't done all that much."

"You've done more than enough," she answered softly.

Just then, Aedan whispered back to them, "Looks like we're here."

As they emerged from a stand of trees, they spotted a small, ramshackle hut sitting in the middle of the swamp. It looked hardly big enough for two people, yet Morrigan led them right to it. An old woman, wizened and frail looking, with grey hair and dressed in simple peasant's clothing, was waiting in front of the hut. Her appearance was deceptive, though. Alistair could sense a far greater amount of magic coming off her than what Morrigan possessed; more than he had ever sensed before, even from the First Enchanter that he'd met briefly. He could only hope she didn't want to use it on them, because he doubted his limited templar abilities would be of any use on her.

"Greetings, Mother," Morrigan called out as they approached, "I bring before you five Grey Wardens who –"

"I see them, girl," the old woman interrupted. "Mmm. Much as I expected. Except for you." She was looking at Ayla, Alistair noted with a jerk of surprise. "You do not belong here, as the others do, do you?"

Alistair looked at Ayla. She looked as shocked as he was, but she recovered quickly. "I am not sure what you mean."

"Are you not?" the old woman smiled. "You are not from here, and were brought against your will, if I am not mistaken."

"Do you know why I was brought here, or how I can get back?" Ayla demanded suddenly, her fists clenching.

"I cannot be certain," the old woman replied. "But it is likely you were brought because you were needed here, more than you were needed there. Where you appeared and who you first met, will have much to do with why you were brought, I think. As for how you can get back, perhaps when you have completed what you were brought here to do, the answer will show itself."

"But you don't know for sure, do you?" Ayla asked.

The old woman shook her head. "I am afraid I do not, but there is only one way to find out, is there not?" Before Ayla could answer, she turned her attention back to Alistair and the recruits. "The four of you, however, I was expecting."

Alistair snorted, though he was more disturbed than he cared to admit about the old woman's insight into Ayla. "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide; either way one's a fool!" The old woman cackled, looking carefully at each of them in turn.

"She's a witch, I tell you, we shouldn't be talking to her," Daveth hissed as her eyes passed over him.

"Quiet Daveth, if she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" Jory hissed back.

"There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will. And what of you?" She turned to Aedan this time, who was still standing a little in front of the others. "Do you possess a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

Aedan shrugged. "I'm not sure what to believe."

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware or is it oblivious? I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain and yet I believe. Do I? Why it seems I do!" The old woman appeared to be ranting to herself at this point, having gone from relatively straightforward answers with Ayla to insane riddles and ramblings.

"So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?" Alistair was amused in spite of himself. For all the old woman's impressive power, it seemed her mind was too far gone for it to be of any use.

"Witch of the Wilds, eh?" The old woman laughed. "Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the light of the moon!"

"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother." For the first time, Morrigan sounded exasperated instead of coolly amused and in control.

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" The old woman turned and took some scrolls out of a bag hanging on the wall of the hut behind her. She handed them to Aedan, who was nearest to her. Alistair tried to recall when Morrigan or themselves had mentioned the treaties to her. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

"You –" Alistair began, ready to berate her for stealing them until the rest of what she'd said penetrated his brain. "Oh. You protected them?" He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. Why would a Witch of the Wilds bother protecting Grey Warden treaties?

"And why not?" The old woman said, waving her hand dismissively. "Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this blight's threat is greater than they realize!"

"Thank you for returning them," Aedan said, sweeping her such a courtly bow that Alistair wondered, not for the first time, exactly who he was.

"Such manners! Always in the last place you look, like stockings!" She laughed again at the looks on their faces. "Oh do not mind me; you have what you came for!"

"Time for you to go then," Morrigan said, sounding pleased.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl, these are your guests." The old woman glanced at Morrigan, significantly.

Morrigan heaved a sigh. "Oh very well, I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."

She turned away from the hut and began walking, in a different direction than the way they'd come. Once again, Aedan followed her without hesitating, and Alistair wondered why in the Maker's name he thought her so trustworthy. But, the sun was getting awfully close to the horizon, and if she could show them a faster way out, it would be for the better. With a sigh, he followed Aedan, and again, the others followed him.

Ayla fell in beside him again, but she was quiet. He assumed she was thinking about all the old woman had told her, and he didn't interrupt her. No, he'd wait until they got back to camp. He couldn't wait to ask her all the questions that were churning around in his brain. He'd have a good long chat with her as soon as he had the chance, he decided. For now, he'd just have to get back to camp and get these recruits through the Joining.


	2. Ostagar and the Grey Wardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Ayla's POV, we arrive at Ostagar and she attempts to join the Grey Wardens in their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than I meant it to be, I had intended to cover the Tower of Ishal as well, but Ayla had a lot to say, so we'll get to the Tower next chapter. As you might have noticed, I will also be putting in some game dialogue here and there, and I will try to keep that as close to the game as I can remember. However, there will obviously be a fair bit of original dialogue as well, since a new character throws in a new spin on things. I will be mostly following the game as it plays out, at least, the major events. Please review and let me know what you think, constructive criticism is welcome! Particularly if you think anyone's OOC. Thank you and enjoy!

_Disclaimer: Anything related to the actual events or characters of Dragon Age is owned by Bioware._

Chapter Two: Ostagar and the Grey Wardens

As they approached the ruins, Ayla couldn't help but be impressed. She'd never seen such a big structure; even Fallor Castle was nowhere near as big as this Ostagar place had once been. Though most of what was left was only towers or walls, she could tell that the grey stone walls had once been massive and overwhelming. Alistair led them to a large, wooden gate with two doors that spanned an open archway. It was flanked by two soldiers, who nodded when they saw Alistair, took down the heavy wooden plank, and pushed open the doors. They cast curious glances at her as she followed the others in, but said nothing.

She'd made up her mind on the way back through the Wilds, decided what it was she had to do, and was going to do. The old woman they'd met in the Wilds, Morrigan's mother, had clinched it for her. She knew a messenger of the Goddess when she saw one; the old woman spoke in riddles, just like Cranin did. But they were riddles mixed with truth and advice. Not to mention the fact that the old woman had recognized right away, without being told, that Ayla was not of this world. So what the old woman had said must be true: she was here because she was needed here, more than she was needed at home.

She'd known that it must have been something like that. She'd been at Starwood Point when it happened. Only for a walk; she'd told her brother, Mardin, when she'd left that she'd only been going for a walk to get some fresh air. Fortunately, she'd taken her swords with her just to be on the safe side. Starwood Point was known to be a place where portals to other worlds could open, or people from other worlds could arrive in Fallor. But portals didn't just open by accident. Only the Goddess or one of her chosen messengers could have done something like that.

It had seemed like an accident, though. She'd been sitting on the ground in the clearing, facing the Starwood tree, with its blinding, silvery light, just relaxing and breathing in the sound and smell of the woods. Then, the ground had started to shake, at the same time as something had started to appear in front of the tree. A golden light, getting bigger and bigger until it had taken the shape of a door. A fierce wind had kicked up, pushing her towards the light. She'd gotten to her feet, thinking she could get away, but the wind had been so powerful, it had lifted her off her feet and essentially thrown her in the door.

Once in the door of light, she hadn't been able to see anything, not clearly, only sense and feel. It had been like being pushed and pulled at the same time, turned and twisted around in a thousand directions, until she had no concept of which way was up, down, forward or backward. Overwhelming pressure had pushed down on her, until finally, she'd blacked out.

When she came to, she'd been lying on the ground, in what she now knew was the Korcari Wilds. Considering what she could recall of what happened, she'd felt surprisingly good, other than a mild headache. She'd gotten to her feet; unsure of what to do next, since the scenery around her was like nothing she'd ever seen before, when she heard the noise. She'd looked toward it, and seen those monstrous creatures, those darkspawn, as Alistair had called them, coming toward her.

They, too, were like nothing she'd ever seen before. She'd heard stories of demons and monsters in her world, and even come across a few monsters, but largely, Fallor was at peace, and all the demons were gone. She had been wholly unprepared for the sight of these horrible, humanoid creatures, black, bald, and leering. All the ones she'd seen at that point had been short, a good foot or so shorter than herself, stocky, with pointed teeth in dark-skinned faces, wearing bits and pieces of armor, and carrying weapons. Both weapons and armor had looked _wrong_ , as though just by being in contact with those things, they had become dark and twisted as well.

For the first time she could remember in her life, Ayla had actually felt true fear on the battlefield. Her mind had been seized with panic at their approach, and she'd felt like she couldn't move. Fortunately, her ruthlessly trained body had reacted, even when her mind had felt unable to. Her swords had come out almost automatically, and she'd moved into the dance of fighting long before her brain had cleared. When the first one had gone down, and she'd realized they died the same as anything else, except for the black ichor leaking out where red blood should have been, her brain had cleared, and the fear had disappeared.

Then Alistair and his friends, or recruits, had appeared, and through the conversation, she'd had it truly brought home to her that she was no longer in Fallor. Almost everything Alistair had mentioned to her, place names and names of warrior orders, had been utterly unfamiliar. There were many legends and stories about such things happening; she just never dreamed it would have happened to her. And though the door opening had _seemed_ like a random accident, she knew such a powerful occurrence couldn't possibly be. Morrigan's mother had confirmed it for her, she was needed here, and by doing whatever she was brought here to do, she would be able to go home again. Ayla remembered that she had also said who she met and where she arrived would have a lot to do with what she'd been brought here for.

Ayla was inclined to agree. It couldn't be a coincidence that she'd met these Grey Wardens, who were charged to fight those darkspawn, minutes after her arrival. It also couldn't be a coincidence that her arrival had occurred on the eve of what sounded like a very important battle for them. So she'd made up her mind. She was meant to help the Grey Wardens fight the darkspawn; that was the mission her Goddess had brought her here to achieve, that was her destiny. She didn't know why it was just hers; why hadn't someone else been brought through with her? Even just her brother would have been a huge help. But maybe only one person had been able to cross over, or she'd just happened to be in the right place at the right time. No matter, though, she'd do whatever she had to in order to accomplish her destiny and get home.

The biggest problem right now, she mused as she followed Alistair through the camp, was convincing Alistair's commander that she needed to stay with them and help them fight. She didn't think she could tell any of them the truth about where she was from; not yet, anyway. That was why she'd been careful to say as little as possible to Alistair. She didn't know if this was a world that would readily accept the existence of others, or the possibility that someone from another world could appear in theirs. So she'd keep her mouth shut until she knew they could accept what she had to say, about that and about her own abilities.

She had no idea if they'd be willing to let her stay with them and fight alongside them. On the one hand, it sounded like they could use all the help they could get, if they were bringing in three raw recruits so close to a major battle. On the other hand, would they be able to trust her, when there was so little she could tell them? She knew Alistair already had his suspicions, she'd seen it in his eyes. Of course, he had every right to be suspicious. Her story was full of holes, and she could tell she was missing a lot of basic knowledge someone from his world would have.

But even with that, he'd trusted her so far. He'd been willing to bring her along with them, even as they finished up their mission, and to trust her to fight alongside them. He'd brought her back into the middle of their camp. He'd done so much more for her than she would have expected anybody to do, considering the circumstances under which they'd met. She was hoping that he would help her convince Duncan that she needed to stay. After all, he'd seen her fight, too. He had to know that she'd be useful.

She glanced around the camp as they continued to make their way through it, observing all that she could, and trying to note down the similarities and differences. For the most part, the army camp was like any gathering of warriors before a big battle. There were groups of tents set up around various campfires, each belonging to a different band of warriors or troops. People bustled back and forth, fetching food, water, weapons, supplies, whatever was needed to fight the battle. In one spot, she even saw people praying as a woman in robes spoke about a Maker.

There was a group of mages, too, she noted, though they seemed to be cordoned off from all the others. There was magic and mages in her world, too. But something must be different here. In her world, the mages had their own order, and led themselves. From what Alistair had told her, here they had an order devoted to being able to _neutralize_ mages, in case they were a danger. She could see men in heavy silver plate armor, with red and gold skirting covering their legs, guarding the area where the mages were. They had to be Templars. She wondered what it was that made mages in this world so dangerous they had to be guarded all the time. She was afraid to ask, though, for fear she'd arouse more suspicion.

The only other immediate difference she saw was the elves. There were elves in Fallor, as well, but they all had silver hair. Some believed it was because the valley they lived in contained another tree like the one at Starwood Point, and after centuries of living by it, it had changed their appearance. Whatever the reason was, she'd never met an elf who didn't have silver hair. But the ones here had all shades of hair, just like humans. The other difference was that they all appeared to be servants, or maybe even slaves. They were all performing menial tasks, and wearing rough, homespun clothing, and none of them were carrying weapons. Additionally, none of them seemed to be in command of anything, not even themselves. These were all things that the proud, long-lived elves she was used to would never have agreed to. She decided that the differences she'd seen so far, she didn't like.

"We're here," Alistair announced suddenly, jerking her out of her observations. They'd arrived at a fire in front of another group of tents. An older man stood waiting by the fire. In spite of his years, he was still attractive, with a full beard and his dark hair clubbed into a queue at the back of his neck. His tanned skin and gold hoop earring gave him a somewhat piratical air. He wore an expensive-looking suit of light silver and gold plate, skirted at the bottom. A wicked-looking longsword and dagger were strapped to his back. He had to be Alistair's commander, Ayla thought. She could see it in his stance, in the air of command that surrounded him.

"So you return from the Wilds, have you been successful?" The commander's sharp-eyed gaze passed over all of them, then lingered on Ayla. "It appears you brought someone back with you."

Alistair cleared his throat. "Yes, we were successful. Duncan, this is Ayla. We came across her in the Wilds, fighting darkspawn. She didn't know how she came to be in the Wilds."

"Indeed?" Duncan's eyebrows raised, his gaze continuing to bore into Ayla. She resisted the urge to squirm. He'd definitely be tough to convince, she decided. "I'd like nothing better than to question her further about that, but we have little time at the moment. The Circle mages are preparing. With the . . . . items you've retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately. After that, you and I can have a discussion." He nodded at Ayla.

She cleared her throat. It was now or never. "Excuse me, Commander Duncan, but I'd like to offer my services to the Grey Wardens. I would like to help you in your fight against these darkspawn. If that requires me to undertake this Joining of yours, I can do that as well."

Duncan looked both shocked and grim, and Alistair had a sudden coughing fit, as though something had gone down the wrong way. "I am not so sure that is wise, though I appreciate the sentiment and the offer."

"Ayla, wait." It was Alistair who spoke. She turned toward him, noticing, not for the first time, how handsome he was. His closely cropped, reddish-blonde hair gleamed in the firelight, with its odd upturn of spikes above his forehead. His square-jawed face was smooth except for a little stubble that she found oddly appealing, and his hazel eyes were dark with sudden concern. "You want to go home, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she replied, finding the question odd. "But I think, in order to do so, that I must do something here first. I believe that something is helping the Grey Wardens with this fight. Once I have, then I may be able to find the way home."

"Well, if you want to help fight the Blight, that's fine. But the Joining is kind of . . . permanent. If you want to go back home, it's probably best that you don't go through the Joining." His brow was furrowed, she noted, and he was carefully not looking her directly in the eyes.

What exactly did he mean by permanent? She'd realized that he must have some type of ability of his own. It hadn't escaped her notice in the Wilds that he'd picked up on the darkspawn long before ordinary human senses would have, even before her heightened hearing and eyesight had been able to. She'd also noticed that the other three hadn't appeared to have the same abilities, so it must be something that the Grey Wardens gained after going through this Joining.

Judging by his reluctance to have her participate, though, it didn't sound as though it was a simple test of ability or skill, like the Kin Ritual in Fallor, or the battle that tested one's worth to join the Order of Avallonne. In those cases, if you didn't succeed, you just didn't gain your animal kin, or become a warrior of the Order. This seemed to be a lot more serious. Well, he was the Grey Warden. If he was telling her it was best not to go through with it, she'd probably be better off listening.

She nodded. "All right, then I won't go through with the Joining. But I still believe I am meant to help the Grey Wardens fight, so I would like to remain and help you fight off this Blight of yours."

"That will be up to Duncan," Alistair turned back to Duncan as he said this.

"We will discuss it after the Joining." Duncan looked at Ayla. She sensed that he was sizing her up. "If you wish to join us, you will remain here, and wait for Alistair and I to return. I will take a moment with the recruits alone to explain a few things; then, Alistair, you will take them to the old temple, and we will begin."

Duncan motioned to Aedan and the others to follow him as he walked away from the fire. They followed him several yards away to a point that was out of earshot. If they hadn't been in a crowded camp, though, Ayla would still have been able to pick up the conversation. It didn't matter, though, she knew it had to be about the Joining, and it must have been something that the Wardens needed to keep secret. She wasn't going to pry into something that was none of her business, especially when she needed Duncan to trust her.

"Why do you want to help us?" Alistair asked her. "Do you honestly believe you can find your way home from helping us fight the Blight?"

Ayla hesitated. How much to tell him? But then, he'd been there when Morrigan's mother had spoken to her. "You heard what Morrigan's mother said, right? That I was brought here because I was needed here more than I was needed at home? And that maybe once I'd done what was needed doing here, I would find the answers I need to get home? I thought about it on the way back here, and I decided she was right. I do not believe it was a coincidence that I met you so soon after I arrived, and just before what appears to be a major battle in your Blight. So, I will help you and the other Grey Wardens in your battle, and by doing so, maybe I will find my answers."

"You're going to take advice from a crazy old witch?"

Ayla shrugged. "I do not believe she was just a crazy old witch. She knew far more about me than she should have, and it sounded like she had the answers I was looking for."

Alistair sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as though he were weary. "You know this will be dangerous, right? You'll be risking your life to fight a battle that isn't yours."

She smiled. "I am a warrior, after all. I have spent my entire life risking it on the battlefield. Besides, I know nothing about where I am, or how I could get to my home from here. If I start to aimlessly wander your country while it is in a state of battle, that would be equally dangerous. Best to help you finish your fight, then go looking when your country's at peace again."

"I suppose you have a point. All right, I'll make you a deal. You help us defeat the Blight, and when it's all over, I'll help you find your way home." He grinned at her, and she was surprised to feel her heart jump a little. Why did she find him so attractive? It wasn't like she wasn't used to being around attractive men, after all.

She found herself grinning back. "That sounds like a deal. A favour for a favour. Just as long as Duncan lets me stay, that is."

He held out his gauntleted hand, and she shook it to seal the deal. "Don't worry about Duncan. I'll talk him into it. Anyway, I'd best go help him with the Joining now. There's a food tent over there, if you're hungry. We'll be back as soon as we can."

She followed the direction he was pointing, and saw the tent open at the front, with a large kettle over the fire. A man was ladling what looked like stew into bowls for the soldiers lined up there. Realizing that she did feel hungry, she decided she'd go eat. She nodded to Alistair. "I will be waiting here, then."

He walked off in the direction that Duncan had gone with the recruits, and joining up with them, headed further away, towards a stone ramp that led up into another area of the ruins. She headed over to the food tent, and joined the line up to get something to eat.

It had been at least a good hour since Duncan and Alistair had left, and Ayla was getting restless. She'd eaten the stew, which had been surprisingly good, along with a hunk of bread and some cheese. Then, she'd simply sat by the fire, watching the camp. Part of her had wanted to leave and go exploring, but not knowing when exactly they would get back, she'd decided against it. She'd agreed to wait here, and if she wasn't here when they returned, that wouldn't help Duncan trust her any.

Finally, she picked up on footsteps approaching the fire she was sitting at. She turned her head to look. Duncan and Alistair were approaching, with Aedan. Alistair had Aedan's arm slung over his shoulders, and was helping him to walk. The young man, who Ayla suspected was close to her own age of 21 years, looked very pale. His short black hair was sweaty, and his eyes looked glazed. He looked ill, Ayla realized, like his body was fighting something off.

Alistair helped him into another one of the tents, this one was closed off, and most likely contained sleeping pallets. Duncan, meanwhile, approached the fire where she was waiting. "I see you are still here."

Ayla was burning with her own questions. Where were Jory and Daveth? Why did Aedan look so ill? What did this Joining entail exactly? But she knew now wasn't the time. So she simply nodded. "I am. I did say I wished to join you in your fight, after all."

Alistair came back out of the tent, and took a seat on one of the logs around the fire, as Duncan had. "He's resting," he said in answer to the look Duncan cast in his direction.

Duncan nodded, then turned his attention back to Ayla. "You say you wish to join us. First, I would like to hear a little bit more about whom exactly you are, and where you come from. I cannot allow just anyone to fight alongside the Grey Wardens."

Ayla had expected as much, and had decided how exactly she wanted to go about it. "My name is Ayla Trichlor, and I hail from a country called Fallor. I doubt that you have heard of it, for I have not heard of your Ferelden, either." This was all true, of course. She just wasn't mentioning that they probably hadn't heard of it because it was in a different world. "I am a warrior of the Order of Avallonne, an Order of warriors pledged to fight in the service of our King, either in war or to keep the peace of his lands. I am the Lieutenant of that Order."

She pulled back the left side of her pantherskin cloak, to show them the silver band wrapped around her upper arm. It bore the symbol of the spreading wings crossed by swords that symbolized her Order, the same symbol worn on her tunic. The silver band was worn by the Lieutenant of the Order, while the Captain wore the gold band. She had decided it was best to tell them her qualifications as a warrior, so to speak. It might make Duncan more likely to bring her along. She continued with the story she'd chosen to tell him.

"I had gone out for a walk in the woods near my home, just to get some fresh air. I took my swords with me, to be safe. While I was resting in a clearing, there was a bright flash of light, and I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was in the place you call the Korcari Wilds. Before I could even decide what to do, I was attacked by those creatures you call darkspawn. Then Alistair and the other recruits came to my aid. I imagine you know the rest."

Duncan folded his hands together, and looked at her with a considering gaze. "This is truly all that you can remember?"

Ayla nodded. It was, after all. She was just leaving out a few facts that they didn't need to know quite yet. But everything she'd told them was completely true.

"You'll forgive me if I am suspicious. Your story is very difficult to believe. If it is true, I can only imagine some type of magic brought you to the Wilds. You are correct that I have never heard of your country, and I had thought that I knew every country in Thedas. I would be inclined to think you were making it up, but you are wearing clothes different from any I have seen, and the crest you bear is different from any that I know of, as well. It also seems like a much too elaborate ruse for the purpose of getting to risk your life fighting alongside the Grey Wardens. Not to mention, there is no way you could have known that Alistair and the recruits would be there at that particular time." Duncan paused here, and seemed to be thinking.

Ayla waited, holding her breath. He was smart, this Duncan, logical, and fair. It sounded like she might have a chance of convincing him after all.

Duncan turned to look at Alistair. "Alistair also tells me you're a skilled fighter, and we could certainly use more of those. I have a feeling that you are not telling me everything, but I also believe you are sincere in your desire to help. So, I am going to allow you to stay with us."

"Thank you –" Ayla began, but he held up a hand to forestall her.

"There are conditions, however, which you must agree to, or I will not allow it."

Ayla nodded. She'd expected no less. Any commander worthy of the title would not simply allow a strange warrior to join them without some kind of restrictions. "What are the conditions?"

"The first condition is that if you are fighting with the Grey Wardens, you will be expected to act as one, meaning that you must follow the orders of the Warden Commander at all times. The second condition is that you must not divulge any secrets you might learn about the Wardens while fighting with us, under pain of death. Finally, if I suspect at any time that you are a danger to any of us, or our King, I will do whatever is necessary to end that danger." His eyes were cold on the last sentence, his face set. Ayla had no doubt he'd do as he said, if he felt it necessary.

Ayla nodded again. "I agree to your conditions. They all seem fair and straightforward. Where would you like me to begin, Commander?"

Duncan smiled suddenly as he rose to his feet. "I have a meeting to attend with the King, regarding the upcoming battle with the darkspawn. Since Alistair was the one who found you, you are his responsibility. For now, you go where he goes. At the moment, the two of you will remain here to watch over Aedan. When I return from the meeting, I should have further orders for you."

Ayla nodded. "Yes, Commander." She watched Duncan head off again, back in the direction he'd come from, and turned to Alistair.

It wouldn't be much of a hardship to go where he went, she decided. She'd already come to the conclusion she wanted to find out what was under that splintmail armour of his, besides his broad shoulders. She had the feeling he was very well defined under there. Being partnered with him, so to speak, would only make it that much easier to eventually find out. Plus, from what she'd seen so far, he was a skilled warrior as well, and she felt she could trust him to watch her back on the battlefield.

"Sorry about that," Alistair muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was the only way he'd agree to let you along, if I took personal responsibility for keeping an eye on you, in case you were up to something."

"Not to worry," Ayla assured him. "I wanted to come along, after all, and I do believe I'll enjoy travelling with you."

"You will?" He looked startled. "Huh, that's a switch."

Ayla fought back a grin, and turned her attention to more serious matters. "What happened to the other two recruits? Why does Aedan look so ill?"

Alistair sighed, and looked away. "I suppose it won't do any good to try to hide it from you. Just remember, you agreed to keep any secrets you learned about the Wardens." He looked at her again, and when she nodded, he went on. "As I said, the Joining is kind of permanent. It changes our bodies in order to let us fight the darkspawn more effectively. Not everybody makes it through the change. Those that do, feel ill at first, and need some time to recover."

"Daveth and Jory were not able to make it through the change, then," Ayla guessed. Seeing the sorrow in Alistair's eyes as he nodded, she knew she had the right answer. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he murmured. "I can wish that it wasn't necessary, but Duncan says there is no other way to fight them, and defeat a Blight. At least Aedan made it through."

"You should get something to eat," Ayla urged him. If she'd been hungry when she got back, however long ago that was now, she could only imagine how hungry he must be. "I'll keep an eye on Aedan's tent while you do."

"Well, I am hungry," he admitted. "Are you sure that's okay?"

"Yes, go," she waved him off. "Besides, Aedan might be hungry when he feels better, too."

"You're right, I'll get us both some food." Alistair got to his feet and headed in the direction of the food tent.

Ayla wondered while she watched him go, just what it was that the Joining entailed, that it could potentially take the lives of those who went through it. It wasn't her secret to know, not yet. Maybe they would trust her with it eventually. Maybe she'd eventually trust them with the secrets of her own abilities and where she came from, too. Only time would tell. For now, she'd accomplished the first goal she'd set for herself in this strange new world. She was going to fight alongside the Grey Wardens. It only remained to see just how that fight would play out.


	3. The Last of His Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan awakes, and introduces himself properly to Ayla and Alistair.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age and all related characters, as usual._

The Last of His Line

Alistair returned within a few moments, bearing a large wooden tray that he was carefully trying to keep balanced. There were four bowls of stew on it, as well as a loaf of bread and an entire wheel of cheese. When he reached the fire, he set it down carefully by the log next to Ayla, and sat down himself as well.

Ayla couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice. "Are you afraid there will be a shortage of cheese or food in general?"

Alistair smiled sheepishly. "Not really. I'm rather fond of cheese, and I eat a lot. Aedan will want a lot to eat, when he wakes up. It's sort of a side effect of the Joining."

A side effect? Ayla thought. How interesting. Did their bodies require more sustenance because of whatever powers they gained? "All right, I'll leave it alone. Since we're going to be working together from now on, why don't you tell me more about yourself? I believe you said something about being a templar before you became a Grey Warden?"

Alistair finished the mouthful of food he had. "Well, not exactly. I was in training to become a templar when Duncan found me and decided to recruit me for the Grey Wardens. Since I was raised in the Chantry, they wanted me to become a templar. But when I met Duncan, he saw that I wasn't happy and asked what I wanted to do. He was the first person I'd ever met who cared what I wanted. So, I decided I wanted to become a Grey Warden, and help him. He thought my training as a templar would be useful against the darkspawn, so I've kept up with it. Anything else you'd like to know?"

Ayla thought about it. The Chantry sounded like it must be the religious order of this country. Was he an orphan, then? He hadn't mentioned any family. "What about your family?"

Alistair looked down at his food. "I don't have any. My mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle, who died when I was very young. I never met my father. Arl Eamon, who is the lord of Redcliffe castle, raised me, but I eventually ended up in the Chantry. What about your family?"

She sighed. "I only have my brother, anymore. My mother died when I was young also, and my father was killed a few years ago in battle." She never liked to think about what had happened to her father, but she supposed it was her own fault for bringing up the subject of families. "I mean, there are other members of the Trichlor clan, uncles and cousins and the like, but my brother and I keep to ourselves mostly."

Alistair looked like he was about to ask a question, when the tent flap opened and Aedan came out. He still looked quite pale, but he wasn't as sweaty anymore and was walking on his own. He came over and sat down nearby.

"How are you feeling?" Alistair asked him. "Are you hungry?"

"I'll be all right, I think," Aedan replied. "But yes, I am hungry."

"Here." Alistair passed him one of the bowls of stew, and a hunk of bread. Aedan took them, and tore off a chunk of bread.

After he swallowed, he glanced over at Ayla. "So are you planning to accompany us, then?"

Ayla nodded. "Although I'm not actually a Grey Warden like you are now, Duncan agreed to let me stay with all of you and help with this Blight. I'd like to accompany you until the fight's over. Besides," she smiled at Alistair, "Alistair and I have a deal, right?"

"That we do, my lady," Alistair gave her a mock bow. "You defeat the Blight with us, and I'll help you get back home. Maybe Aedan will help, too."

"If we get through this Blight alive, I have something of my own I need to take care of," Aedan growled. Ayla saw a dark shadow pass over his face.

"What is it?" she asked. "Perhaps I could help you with that, as well, before I leave."

"If you do not mind helping to kill a man, you are certainly welcome to come along," Aedan retorted, returning his attention to his food.

"I assume he must have wronged you in some way. If that's the case, I don't mind helping at all." Ayla knew, after all, what it was to want revenge.

"Wronged me?" Aedan laughed bitterly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. If by wronged you mean slaughtering my entire family and everyone around us. I would have been dead as well if it were not for Duncan and my mabari hound Striker."

Ayla looked at Alistair, who appeared to be as shocked as she felt. "By the Maker," he whispered. "Duncan mentioned that something tragic happened at Highever when he went there to recruit, but he didn't say what. Does that mean that you're a Cousland?"

Aedan swallowed and looked down at his food, his jaw working. "Yes, you might be looking at the last remaining Cousland, unless my brother Fergus is still alive. He left with my father's troops before it happened, which is why we had no one to defend us. King Cailan said that he was out on patrol and I would not be able to see him until after the battle. But I imagine that bastard Howe had a plan for my brother as well."

"You can't mean - Arl Rendon Howe killed your family?" Now the shock was apparent in Alistair's voice as well. Ayla was having a little trouble following the conversation, but her best guess was that the Cousland family to which Aedan belonged must be some sort of nobility, and from what Alistair had said about Arl Eamon being a lord, that the title of Arl must indicate nobility in general. It wasn't entirely unusual, even in Fallor, for there to be in-fighting among the nobility. She couldn't recall ever hearing of an entire noble family being slaughtered in Fallor, though.

Aedan's fist clenched, and now there was fury sparking in his grey eyes. "Yes. He was supposed to be my father's friend. They were friends since before I was born, when they fought alongside King Maric to free us from the Orlesians. I thought of him as an uncle! That's why no one thought anything of it when he claimed his troops were delayed, and my father let him and the soldiers he had with him stay overnight while he sent Fergus on ahead with almost all of our fighting men. But during the night, they attacked. They . . ." his voice broke.

Ayla could only imagine the pain he was going through. She'd lost her father, and that had been bad enough. She couldn't imagine what losing one's entire family could feel like. "It's okay. You don't have to tell us about it."

Aedan looked up at her, and shook his head. "No, if we are to fight together, you two should know what he's capable of, if we ever run into him." He took a deep breath, and continued, "They went on a rampage through the main house. They killed everyone. Women, children, servants. Nan, who was our cook, her kitchen staff, maids, a friend of my mother's who was there, the girl I was with that night, everyone. Including my brother's wife and his 7-year-old son. I was going to teach him how to use a sword while his father was away, but they cut him down. A child."

His voice became almost monotone as he continued, as though he were trying very hard to keep any emotion out of it. "With my hound's help, I killed the ones that came for me, and found my mother. Together we went to the servant's entrance in the larder, where we found my father bleeding out from the wound Howe gave him. Duncan had helped him get there. My father asked Duncan to help me and my mother get out, since we were already surrounded. Duncan agreed, under the condition I become a Grey Warden. My father and I agreed to his terms, and then my mother decided to stay behind to buy us time. That's how I got recruited, and the soonest I can, I'm going after Howe and I will make that traitor pay for what he's done."

Ayla couldn't blame him for feeling that way. She'd never heard anything as monstrous as what he'd just described. Even what had happened to her father hadn't been that horrendous. At least the people who'd killed him hadn't been his friends. She was about to tell Aedan she'd have no problem helping him kill this Howe of his, when Alistair spoke.

"As soon as this Blight is over, I'll go help you bring Howe down. You're a Warden, you're one of us now, so I'll help you with whatever you need." He looked over at Ayla. "Sorry, but I might have to take a little longer before I can hold up my deal with you."

Ayla smiled. She was liking Alistair more by the minute. "That's fine; I was actually just going to suggest we help Aedan first before we go looking for a way to get me home. After all, some people deserve death, and it sounds like this Howe deserves it several times over."

"Thank you," Aedan began, "but you do not have to help me. This is my fight, not yours. Howe is my problem."

Ayla shook her head. "I insist. Someone like that cannot be left to do as he pleases, especially if he has his own personal army to help him."

"Exactly," Alistair nodded. "Besides, like I said, you're one of us now. Your problems are now everybody's problem. And even if you try to get rid of us, we'll just follow you anyway."

Aedan shrugged. "Have it your way, then. After the Blight is done, you can follow me to Highever if you like. I will not stop you."

Ayla suspected he was more grateful than he seemed, since he once again couldn't meet their eyes. But she knew it was hard to get past one's pride to accept help. She and her brother had refused any help in their own revenge, after all. It was at that moment she heard footsteps approaching, and looked towards the ramp.

She was barely able to make out Duncan's figure approaching through the gathering darkness. She also noticed that Alistair had turned to look at the same time she did. She knew that she'd heard Duncan before anybody else should have been able to, so how had Alistair known? Was it because Duncan was also a Grey Warden? This whole Grey Warden thing was really starting to make her curious, she had to admit.

Duncan approached the fire. "King Cailan has laid out his battle plan. The majority of the Grey Wardens are to join him and several of the troops on the front line, to draw out the approaching horde. Meanwhile, Teyrn Loghain will be waiting with the rest of the soldiers for a signal to flank the horde. The King has asked that Alistair and our new recruit, Aedan, make their way to the top of the Tower of Ishal to light the beacon. And since you, Ayla, are to go where Alistair goes . . ."

"That means I get to go up there with them," Ayla finished for him. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased or not. She had to admit she wasn't in any hurry to face an entire horde of those monsters, but she also didn't see why it was necessary to send three perfectly good fighters to light a beacon. Didn't they have other soldiers they could use?

Alistair shot to his feet. "What? I won't be in the battle?" Well, he definitely wasn't pleased, Ayla thought wryly. She could see the disappointment and anger all over his face.

Duncan turned to face him. "This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?" Alistair said sarcastically.

Aedan got to his feet as well, setting down his bowl. "I agree with Alistair. We should be in the battle. I did not agree to become a Grey Warden so I could light some torches."

Duncan glared at the two of them. "That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then we will be there. We must do whatever it takes to defeat the darkspawn, exciting or no." He stated this with a clipped finality that reminded Ayla of her father delivering orders.

Alistair sighed and scuffed his feet in the dirt. "I get it, I get it. Just so you know, if the King ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

Ayla had no idea what the Remigold was, but just the idea of Alistair in a dress dancing period made her laugh. She grinned at him. "I think I would like to see that."

He looked down at her, those hazel eyes twinkling in appreciation. "For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress."

She couldn't help laughing again. "I am sure we could find you something nice if we looked hard enough."

Duncan sighed heavily and continued as if he hadn't heard them. "The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the king's camp, the way we came when we arrived. You'll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you'll overlook the entire valley."

"When do we light the beacon?" Aedan asked.

"We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for." Duncan nodded at Alistair, who nodded in return. More Grey Warden secrets? Ayla wondered.

"What about after we finish lighting the beacon? Can we join the battle?" Aedan pressed.

Duncan shook his head. "Stay with the Teyrn's men and guard the tower. If you are needed, we will send word. Any other questions?"

He looked around at the three of them, but they all shook their heads. The orders were clear enough, Ayla thought, even if they didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"Then I must join the others. From here, you three are on your own." He looked at Alistair and Aedan. "Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title." He turned to Ayla. "And I hope you are as helpful as you say you are."

Ayla nodded. "I will do my best to be of help to the two of them."

As Duncan turned to walk away, Alistair called after him. "Duncan, may the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all," Duncan replied heavily, before continuing on his way.

This Maker must be the deity they worshipped here in Ferelden, Ayla decided. She'd always been taught that the Goddess was the Queen of all the worlds, so who was this Maker they spoke of? Some demon posing as a false god, or just another face of the Goddess? She'd heard the Goddess was incapable of actually interfering in some worlds, or speaking to their people, and in those cases, the worlds would make up their own deities. There was so much she had to learn about this world, and yet, how to ask without further arousing suspicion about herself?

Alistair turned back to them. "Are the two of you ready? We should head for the Tower of Ishal as soon as possible."

Ayla nodded, patting the swords at her hips. "I have everything I need right here."

"Just a minute." Aedan went back into the tent, and emerged with his greatsword strapped to his back, along with a pack. Like Alistair, he'd already been wearing his splintmail. It appeared like neither of them went anywhere without full armor. Ayla didn't know how they could stand it. In Fallor, the most warriors ever wore was light chainmail, perhaps with some greaves or bracers. Her father had always told her that their powers didn't work as well if they wore too much armor. She didn't know if that was really true or not, but everyone in the Order swore by it. Not to mention, you could move a lot faster if you weren't weighed down by heavy armor.

Aedan looked around. "Striker should be back soon, too. He was with Duncan when we were in the Wilds, and Duncan said he'd just gone out hunting before we got back."

"I'm afraid we don't have time to wait," Alistair replied. "The battle's going to start any minute, and we can't afford to miss the signal. I'm sure you'll be able to find him once the battle's over."

Aedan nodded. "I suppose you are right. We should get moving, then."

Alistair began to lead the way through the camp towards a set of towers. As they walked, Ayla couldn't shake a sudden sense of foreboding. All her instincts were screaming at her to run. Any warrior of the Order knew it was a mistake to ignore your instincts, and any battle she'd been in before, she'd looked forward to. She'd never wanted to run before in her life.

She caught up to Alistair as they walked. "Something isn't right," she whispered to him. "I feel like something horrible is going to happen."

"Well, there is a horde of darkspawn on its way here. If that isn't horrible, I don't know what is. You've never faced darkspawn before the Wilds, right? That's probably all it is." He smiled reassuringly at her.

Ayla frowned, frustrated. It was true, she didn't know anything about those darkspawn, and it was obvious there was something corrupt or wrong with those creatures. She couldn't be sure her instincts weren't reacting to that. "I suppose that could be it."

"It'll be fine, you'll see. Duncan has a plan, and Loghain is Ferelden's greatest general. He'll help us win this battle, and then we'll take care of your and Aedan's business."

He sounded so confident, Ayla decided to let it drop for now. "All right, if you say so."

"I do," he replied. "Now come on, we've got to get to the Tower."

But as they reached the bridge that stretched across the gorge, Ayla couldn't shake the feeling. She only hoped that they would manage to live through the coming battle, because it was too late for her to turn back now.


	4. The Tower of Ishal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair, Ayla, and Aedan reach the Tower of Ishal, and fight their way to the top. Continues in Ayla's POV.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, etc._

The Tower of Ishal

It had started to rain when they reached the massive stone bridge that spanned the gorge, prompting Ayla to flip up the hood of her cloak. It was her first time seeing the bridge, as the gate from the Korcari Wilds that she'd entered the camp from was on the opposite side of the ruins. She couldn't help but be impressed at the width of the bridge, or how high it was off the ground. She'd never seen anything like it before.

However, the view was spoiled by the fact that catapults were launching flaming balls of rock at the bridge and the defenders lining it, who were doing their best to shoot arrows at the teeming mass of battle below. It couldn't have been an easy job, between the darkness, the pouring rain, and the fact that the bridge shook every time a rock succeeded in hitting it. A small portion of the wall was blown away by a flaming rock as they watched, and two men went down.

Alistair looked back at the two of them. "We have to hurry and get across before this whole bridge comes down!"

"Let's move then!" Ayla yelled back.

As she and Aedan began to follow Alistair as he ran across, keeping to the left side of the bridge in an attempt to avoid both the defenders and the catapults, she wished she could change her form. It would be so much faster for her to get across the bridge if only she dared to do it. But there were two problems with that scenario. One, she didn't even know if her powers worked in this world, and two, she had no idea how her companions or the other soldiers would react if they did work. No, it was better to rely on her human legs for now. Maybe later, once she knew Alistair and Aedan better, she might give it a try.

They were halfway across when Ayla heard the whistling noise, and suddenly Alistair reached back, grabbed her arm, and flung both of them forward. A flaming rock hit the bridge where she'd just been standing, and two more soldiers had gone down in a blaze. Aedan had managed to jump back to safety at the same time Alistair had pulled her forward.

Ayla took a deep breath to steady herself as she looked at the damage behind her. "Thanks, Alistair. I owe you one."

He grinned down at her, a white flash of teeth through the darkness and rain. "No problem, I'm sure you'll pay me back soon enough. Let's keep moving. Aedan, are you good?"

Aedan trotted past them. "I'm fine; now let's get off this damn bridge!"

Alistair and Ayla followed after him as he continued towards the ruins on the other side. Ayla could make out an archway of stone on the other side of the bridge, with a stone wall extending from either side of it as far as the eye could see. Flashes of lightning had started to split the sky to add to the chaos, and every so often, she could catch a glimpse of a stone tower beyond the walls in the blinding flashes of light.

They finally reached the archway without incident, and Ayla caught up with Aedan just in time to hear him mutter something to the effect of, "would've been safer down on the damn battlefield."

The three of them passed through the archway. Just beyond was a bonfire in the middle of a sort of courtyard, with a ramp of stone extending up beyond it. Just as they reached the bonfire, a man in robes carrying a wooden staff came running down, with a wild look in his eyes. "You – you're Grey Wardens, aren't you?" he panted. "The tower – it's been taken!"

Alistair pushed forward. "What are you talking about man, taken how?"

"Weren't Teyrn Loghain's men supposed to have it secured?" Aedan demanded.

"The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers. They're everywhere. Most of our men are dead!" The man, whom Ayla suspected was a mage, was very close to complete panic. His voice almost cracked at the end.

Alistair looked between Aedan and Ayla. "Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!"

Ayla nodded. "Duncan said that beacon had to be lit. Just because it's not a stroll through the tower anymore, doesn't change our mission."

"Let's get a move on, then!" Aedan looked at the mage. "Are you coming with us? We could use a mage's powers, especially if you've studied healing."

The mage hesitated, then nodded. "I have some healing magic, and I can add flame to your swords, as well. I'll come with you."

The four of them headed up the ramp that the mage had come down, and began making their way to the tower. The tower was at the top of a steep hill, which had several ramps and walkways set up along it for defense. As they continued up, they ran across bands of three or four darkspawn at a time, and quickly fell into a rhythm.

As the only one with a shield, Alistair took point, doing his best to draw the attention of the darkspawn to him. Aedan followed close behind, usually keeping a little to the right to avoid bringing Alistair within range of his swing. Ayla would circle around to Alistair's left, trying to get behind the darkspawn while they focused on Alistair and Aedan, and take them down with quick backstabs or beheadings. The mage brought up the rear, casting flame spells on their weapons and the occasional healing spell if one of them took a wound. The combination was effective; they made it to the doors of the tower without incident.

Alistair pushed open the big double doors, and they entered the tower. Ayla was relieved to be out of the rain; even with her cloak, she was soaked through, and it was miserable work fighting in a storm. At least it was warm out; she didn't want to imagine how much worse it would have been if it had been cold.

"What now?" Ayla asked, pushing back the hood of her cloak.

"The beacon will be on the top floor," Alistair answered. "We'll have to make our way up there. If I remember right, the stairs to the next floor are on the opposite side of the tower from the entrance. We'll have to make our way over there."

Ayla and Aedan nodded, and they began to make their way through the first floor. Ayla spotted a trip wire, and disabled it before Alistair or Aedan tripped it up. She mentally thanked her fellow warrior, Pakal, for showing her his traps and tricks of the trade. Just beyond the trap, they came across a group of darkspawn. Ayla had noticed outside that, like in the Wilds, there were darkspawn that were even taller than Alistair as well as the ones that were shorter than her. In here, there were more of them, and this time, she spotted one of the shorter ones wielding a staff like a mage.

"It's a genlock emissary!" Alistair yelled as he bashed his shield into the first darkspawn that rushed them. "It can cast spells! Try to take it out first!"

"On it!" Ayla responded, dashing around to the left of Alistair and towards the staff-wielding genlock, as he'd called it. She used all the speed her human self could muster, dodging and batting aside swords, and when the emissary flung a spell at her, she rolled out of the way. Coming up at a run, she caught the staff on her left sword and thrust forward with her right, spearing the emissary in the chest. As it gurgled and stumbled, she yanked out her sword and took its head off in a clean blow.

"Ayla, behind you!" Aedan yelled.

She dove to the right and rolled again, coming up with her swords out. As she gained her feet, she noticed it was one of the big darkspawn, which had just swung its sword down where she'd been standing. Before she could even move to engage it, Alistair came up behind it and ran his longsword through its chest, knocked it to the ground, and finished it off with one more stroke.

She took a quick look around the large circular room they'd found themselves in, which was full of flaming rubble and bodies. All the other darkspawn were down already. "You couldn't let me have more than one?" she joked as she sheathed her swords.

Alistair shrugged and grinned. "Sorry, I'm not very good at sharing."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said dryly.

"Nice job on the emissary," Aedan said as he came past them. "Spellcasters can be big trouble if they are left to the last."

"I'll be happy to keep taking care of them if you two have my back," Ayla answered.

"Sounds like a deal," Alistair agreed.

The four of them continued on their way through the first floor. In one of the rooms, they discovered a large hole in the stone flooring which appeared to lead deep underground. Ayla wrinkled her nose. It smelled like death and the darkspawn, that appalling scent of corruption she'd started to associate with them. "That must be how they got in and took the tower." She gestured to the hole.

Alistair nodded. "It would make sense. They like the underground and the Deep Roads. Come on, we're almost to the second floor."

They found the stairs leading to the second floor shortly thereafter, and after battling through another group of darkspawn in the stairwell, made their way through the doors to the second floor. They stopped for a second to catch their breath.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair gasped, leaning over with his hands braced on his thighs. "What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

"Weren't you complaining that you wouldn't get to fight?" Ayla pointed out. She was leaning against the wall next to him.

"Exactly," Aedan said. "This job is no longer a waste of our time."

"Hey, you're right. I guess there is a silver lining here if you think about it." Alistair winked at Ayla, then straightened up. "At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!"

"Right, let's go!"

They continued making their way through the tower, which was much the same as the first floor. They encountered bands of darkspawn roaming throughout each level and room of the tower, and between the four of them, were able to effectively take them out. They also looted all the storage chests they came across for any useable supplies, including health poultices for their wounds and lyrium potions for the mage that was with them. Apparently that was how he replenished his magic use; in Fallor, he would've had to sleep in order to restore his abilities, Ayla mused. Although he seemed to run out of magic use faster than the mages back home.

Finally, they reached the stairs leading up to the top level of the tower. As they paused at the bottom for a brief rest, allowing the mage to drink his potion, Ayla picked up the sound of very heavy footsteps lumbering around on the floor above. As she listened, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and all her instincts started clamouring again. There was something very dangerous up there.

As she turned to Alistair to warn him, she noticed that he was looking at the door at the top of the stairs as well. His brow was furrowed and his head was cocked to the side as though he were trying to make something out. "Alistair, there's something big and dangerous up there."

He turned to her, surprised. "How did you know that?"

She raised her eyebrows, equally surprised. He'd already known? "I . . . have pretty good hearing. Whatever it is has heavy footsteps, so it's got to be big, and dangerous usually follows big. How did you know?"

He looked away. "Ah, Grey Warden stuff. But yes, it's big. If I'm right, it's an ogre. Which makes it really dangerous. But I think it's the only thing up there."

Aedan had come over while they were talking. "Well, dangerous or not, we have no choice. That's the top floor, and we still need to light the beacon. We might as well get this over with."

Alistair nodded slowly. "I'll go through first again. If it's right by the door, I can hopefully block the first blow with my shield. The rest of you, get in and out of its reach as fast as you can. Duncan told me if you let an ogre get a hold of you, you're dead. So try to keep away from its arms, and we'll see if we can figure out a strategy to take it down."

They nodded, and everyone got their weapons out and ready. Alistair went up the stairs first, and they followed closely behind. He opened the door and went through. Just as Ayla got in the doorway behind him, she saw the huge purplish arm come swinging towards him. Alistair got his shield up in time to catch the blow on it, but it sent him flying across the room into the wall on the other side.

There wasn't any time to hesitate. In the brief window she had, Ayla dashed into the room and to the left, since Alistair had gone to the right, and the huge creature was already lumbering over to where he'd gone down. Aedan followed her. She could only stare in astonishment at the creature – it was over twice the height of the tallest person she'd ever seen, and twice the width as well. Huge horns curled out of the top of its massive head, straight up into the air. Ayla was just reaching for one of the daggers she kept hidden on herself to throw at it to distract it from Alistair, when the mage entered the room and flung a fireball at it.

The ogre roared in anger as the fireball struck, and turned toward the mage. Alistair was struggling to his feet at the far side of the room. The mage tried to run, but not being as fast as the others, he wasn't able to get out of the ogre's reach in time. Just as the three of them got within reach to use their weapons, the ogre picked up the mage in one massive hand and squeezed. With a scream and an unholy squelching sound of bones being broken, the mage died as blood burst from between the ogre's fingers. The mage's broken body was flung to the side.

"Damn you, darkspawn!" Aedan yelled as he swung his greatsword at the back of the ogre's leg. He caught the ogre just above the knee, and the finely honed steel cut right into the flesh, causing another spurt of blood and another furious roar from the ogre as it went down on one knee.

It swung as it went, and the three of them barely rolled out of the way in time. "What's the plan?" Alistair yelled. "We just lost the only person that can attack it from a distance!"

Ayla thought frantically as the three of them swung and dodged out of the reach of the ogre. The only thing that came to her mind was a move she and her brother had used from time to time. It wasn't ideal to use in a situation where she hadn't practiced with the other person, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

Alistair would be the better of the two to help, she decided. Though he and Aedan were roughly the same height, Aedan was a little more slender and wiry. Alistair should have the strength to pull off her brother's part of the move. "I have an idea!" she called to them as they all flung themselves out of the path of the charging ogre.

"What?" They both yelled back.

"Aedan, can you keep it busy for a few seconds? I'll need you to give me a boost in the air, Alistair! With enough height, I should be able to catch it in the chest!"

"What? Are you crazy?!" Alistair exclaimed as he came up next to her.

"It's the only way to get it where we can actually do any major damage," Ayla shot back. "Aedan, can you do it?"

He nodded. "Leave it to me, but make it fast!" He ran at the ogre, and dodged around to its backside to swing at its legs. He began turning it in a circle, as the ogre turned to try to catch him, he would run around to its back again and keep at its legs.

"Okay, Alistair, listen up," Ayla said. "Get in front of the ogre, as close as you can without it catching you, and lean forward a little bit. I'll launch off your back and go at its chest. Make it quick!"

He gave her a dubious glance before he nodded. "If you're sure it'll work, let's go."

The two of them ran forward, just as the ogre turned back to face their section of the room. Alistair stopped just in front of the ogre, leaning forward a little bit to give her a sloped section of back. Ayla turned her swords so the blades were facing back, and took a run at Alistair. She jumped just before she reached him, planting a foot on his back, and he shoved upwards at the same time, launching her into the air.

As she was heading towards the ogre's chest, she managed to get her blades turned around so they were pointing at the ogre. Fortunately, both her momentum and the fact that Aedan was still distracting it prevented the ogre from being fast enough to grab her. She hit it full in the chest, both her swords going straight into the hilt. "Aedan, move!" She screamed as the ogre started to tip backwards.

Aedan rolled out of the way just as the ogre gave another almighty roar and fell flat onto its back with an earth-shaking thud. Ayla rode it down, then dove off and rolled to the side as the ogre reached for the swords in its chest, roaring. Alistair raced forward, skirting around the side of the ogre, and coming up alongside its head, stabbed his longsword straight down into its eye, twisting the point viciously. Just as he did so, Aedan brought his greatsword down across its neck with enough force to bite halfway through. With a final gurgle, the ogre stopped moving and its arms crashed down to its side.

Ayla came back over to the ogre and jumped on its chest, yanking out her swords, before jumping back down next to Alistair and Aedan. Alistair had just pulled his sword out, too, and Aedan was cleaning his.

"I can't believe that actually worked!" Alistair was staring at her in amazement and a little admiration, she thought. "It was crazy, but it worked!"

"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are," she grinned. "I've pulled that move with my brother a few times, but we've practiced it a lot, and it's usually used to get over a crowd of people, not to fly at an ogre. I never expected it to work so well with somebody I've never tried it with."

Alistair chuckled. "I guess we work well together."

"Hey, Alistair!" Aedan yelled. He'd already crossed the room over to the one window that looked outside. "Do you know if it's time to light the beacon?"

Alistair trotted over to the fireplace that was right beside the window, which would send the fire up to the beacon to light it at the top of the tower. "We've probably already missed the signal, let's just light the beacon!"

Ayla followed him over to the fireplace. Aedan tossed Alistair a torch that was by the window, and he dropped it on the pile of tinder in the fireplace. It lit up with a whoosh, running up to the beacon. Ayla crossed over to the window, looking to see if she could spot the battle. It was nearly impossible to make anything out clearly with the darkness, the rain, and the thunder. All she could see were the torches amid the dark mass below, but she couldn't tell which side was where.

She heard the clatter of multiple feet on the stairs at the same time as the hairs on the back of her neck rose again. She turned back to the door at the same time as Alistair did. It burst open, and darkspawn after darkspawn rushed through.

As the three of them raced forward, weapons drawn, the arrows started flying through the air. The last thing Ayla saw as she felt arrows thud into her flesh and her world started to go dark, was Alistair in front of her, trying to block the arrows with his shield. Then the world slipped out from under her.


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair finds out the fate of his friends following the battle at Ostagar. This chapter switches back to an Alistair POV.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, characters and original dialogue, I own everything else._

Aftermath

Alistair paced back and forth at the edge of the swamp across from the ramshackle old hut. He couldn't believe that he was still alive, or that they were back in the Wilds again. It had been three days since he'd awakened in the hut following the battle. He'd learned that Morrigan and her mother had saved him and the others. Though he was grateful, he couldn't make himself believe that it was out of the goodness of their hearts. They had a purpose for it, he was sure, that they weren't going to reveal to him.

He was still having trouble accepting everything that had happened. Morrigan's mother had told him when he awoke that the battle at Ostagar had been lost. For some reason, Teyrn Loghain hadn't responded to the signal they'd worked so hard to raise. Instead, he'd pulled his troops from the field, and everyone left on the battlefield had been slaughtered, according to Morrigan's mother. Every last one of the Grey Wardens but himself and Aedan, and even King Cailan, had died on that field before he'd woken up.

He couldn't believe it. How could Duncan – and all the others – be dead? Why had the greatest hero in all of Ferelden abandoned his king and the rest of the warriors with him to their deaths? How could this have happened? Why couldn't he have been with the others? He wasn't really delusional enough to think that he could have done anything to save them, and yet at the same time, he couldn't keep himself from wishing he had been there with them. Duncan had been like a father to him, and now he was gone. The grief was crushing him.

Worse than all of that, though, was the waiting. He'd been the first to wake up, having apparently received the least serious wounds. Aedan and Ayla had still been unconscious in the hut, being treated for their wounds. All of them had been near death, but Ayla had been the worst off, the mage women had informed him. Not that that surprised him; she hadn't been wearing any armor that he could see. But he was sick with worry for her, nonetheless. He hadn't been able to do anything with his time other than pace around and worry.

Since he'd first seen her in the Wilds, he'd been drawn to her, fascinated by her, and attracted to her. The brief time they'd spent together at the camp and fighting together in the tower had only increased all of those feelings. If she were to die now before he got a chance to find out more about her, he didn't know if he could take it. Especially since she'd been there only to help him and the other Wardens. The women had assured him so far that she was still alive and they expected her to recover, but they'd refused to let him see her.

They'd been right about Aedan recovering, though, Alistair thought. He looked over to his left, where there was a fire going on the edge of the swamp. Aedan sat by it, talking to Morrigan in low tones. He'd woken up just a day ago, and Alistair had been incredibly relieved to not be the only Grey Warden left. Aedan was still a little sore, he'd said, but otherwise fine. By now, Alistair was back in full fighting shape, physically anyway. But the two had agreed to wait until Ayla awoke before making any plans or moving on. They couldn't wait much longer, though.

As if on cue with his thoughts, the door of the hut opened. Alistair stopped in his tracks and turned towards it. Ayla was coming out. His heart soared with relief to see her alive and well. She looked even more beautiful than before, he thought, though that might have been the relief talking. She was dressed in her same outfit, though there were tears in the tunic and leggings where the arrows had struck. He made up his mind that he was going to get her some armor. He had no idea why she hadn't been wearing any in the first place. She also moved more slowly than she had before, he noted. But she was alive, and on her feet, and that was all that mattered.

He started toward her, not quite sure what he planned on doing, but as she came closer and smiled up at him, he pulled into her a hug without even thinking about it. He needed to feel for himself that she was truly alive, and he wasn't just dreaming this part. He pulled her tight against his chest, resting his chin on top of her head. It felt so right to be holding her, he thought. "You – you're alive," he murmured into her hair. "I thought you were dead for sure."

She pulled back in order to smile up at him. This close, he could see she was a little paler than she had been, and there were dark circles under those blue-green eyes of hers, but she looked otherwise fine. "No, it will take a bit more than that to kill me."

Suddenly realizing that hugging a woman he barely knew was inappropriate, he felt himself blush and he stepped back, letting his arms drop away. Then another thought occurred to him. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. You almost died because you came along to help us, and I'm the one who convinced Duncan to let you come."

"Stop," she said sternly, and he looked at her in surprise. Her eyes were flashing fire. "This is not in any way your fault. Putting aside the fact that it was the darkspawn who injured me, it was _my_ decision to come help. Nobody forced me to. And honestly, if Duncan had not agreed, I probably would have followed you in secret anyway. So don't let me hear you say that again."

He nodded slowly, surprisingly finding himself accepting her words. He could see her following along without permission. "All right, I'll try not to blame myself. But I'm very glad that you're all right."

"Thank you. I'm very glad that you're all right, as well. She told me what happened." Ayla nodded towards Morrigan's mother, who'd followed her out of the hut and was now coming towards them. "I'm – very sorry for your loss."

Alistair felt the grief wash over him freshly at her words. He'd been trying his best to ignore it over the last few days, and succeeding for the most part, as he'd had other things to focus his mind on, like whether she and Aedan would wake up. But now, there was nothing to distract him any longer. "Duncan's dead. The Grey Wardens - even the king - they're all dead. This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," the old woman said acidly, coming up next to them. Aedan was coming towards them as well, from his place by the fire. Morrigan, meanwhile, had headed back to the hut and stepped inside.

Alistair almost took a step back. He could still feel the power radiating from her, and she'd been much more coherent this time around than on their previous visit. He could no longer dismiss her as just a crazy old woman, which meant she was a terrifyingly powerful mage. He was doing his best not to antagonize her this time. With that in mind, he hurried to apologize. "I didn't mean - but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

The old woman sniffed. "Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

This time he _did_ take a step back. " _The_ Flemeth - from the legends?" He couldn't keep the shock out of his voice, and he saw it reflected on Aedan's face. Ayla, of course, merely looked confused. "Daveth was right – you're the Witch of the Wilds aren't you?"

Flemeth crossed her arms and stared him down. "And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you three well, has it not?"

"So why did you save us?" Aedan put in. Alistair knew that, like himself, Aedan hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk to Flemeth yet, as she'd spent the past day in the hut working on Ayla, and prior to that, she'd been working on Aedan. Morrigan had deflected any questions about the details or reasons for their rescue, stating only that they could ask her mother.

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?" Flemeth stated this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

Aedan snorted. "The land is hardly united, thanks to Loghain."

Alistair felt the confusion overwhelming him again. Loghain was a _hero_. This couldn't be right, it just couldn't. "That doesn't make any sense!" he protested. "Why would he do it?"

Flemeth nodded in approval. "Now that is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he doesn't see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"What is behind the Blight?" Ayla asked, sounding more than a little lost. She also looked reluctant to ask the question, Alistair noted. He'd almost forgotten how little she knew about everything, and felt his curiosity stir anew about how she could have so little knowledge about Ferelden and the Blight. But now wasn't the time to ask her.

"It's the archdemon," he explained to her. "It is supposedly one of the Old Gods that the mages of the Tevinter Imperium worshipped, which look like dragons. The darkspawn spend centuries searching for where the Old Gods were sealed underground. When they find one, it becomes infected with the taint, and that seems to enable them to organize and act."

"Ordinarily, the darkspawn stick mostly to the deep roads, and rarely attack. If they do, it's disorganized, and not much of a threat. But with an Archdemon awakened, they spread to the surface and are able to organize and fight like any other army, only, with overwhelming numbers and the threat of the taint. The archdemon uses some sort of power, or group mind, in order to command them."

"I see," Ayla replied. She looked faintly ill at his explanation. "I suppose that makes sense. They did not strike me as overly intelligent creatures."

"If the archdemon is the one responsible for the Blight, then we need to find it." Aedan crossed his arms, a determined look stamped on his features. If anything, he'd only become more driven since he'd heard what happened at Ostagar, Alistair thought.

Alistair shook his head in response. "By ourselves? No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don't know how." He shrugged helplessly. He'd only just started to realize how little he truly knew about being a Grey Warden.

"How to kill the archdemon, or how to raise an army?" Flemeth asked. "It seems to me those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

Allies? Alistair racked his brain, trying to think of everything Duncan had ever said to him. "I - I don't know. Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."

"The Arl of Redcliffe?" Aedan interjected. "Perhaps we could go to him, then."

"I suppose . . ." Alistair said slowly. The more he considered the idea, the more feasible it became. "Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course!" He smacked his fist into his other hand, becoming excited by the idea. "We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Ayla nodded. "If he does still have all his men, that sounds like a wise course of action. I imagine most of the other lords lost their men at Ostagar."

Aedan looked skeptical. "And say he doesn't help us? What then?"

Flemeth raised her eyebrows at them. "You have more at your disposal than merely old friends."

For a moment, Alistair wondered what she was talking about. Then, it hit him like a flash – the reason they'd met her and Morrigan in the first place. "Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

Flemeth nodded; apparently satisfied he'd drawn the right conclusion. "I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else . . . this sounds like an army to me."

Alistair looked between Ayla and Aedan. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army?"

Aedan sighed. "I doubt it will be as easy as that."

"When is it ever?" Flemeth said wryly.

"I think it sounds like the only thing we can do," Ayla offered. "We certainly cannot leave things as they stand now."

Alistair suddenly felt more determined, upon hearing Ayla say that, a fact which surprised him a little. And he suddenly remembered Duncan's last words, about being worthy of the title of Grey Wardens. "It's always been the Grey Warden's duty to stand against a Blight," he said with determination, looking over at Aedan. "And right now, we're the Grey Wardens."

"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth pressed, looking between the two of them. She looked at Ayla before adding, "To fulfill your destiny?"

Alistair looked between Flemeth and Ayla, remembering the conversation they'd had the first time she had met. She had said something about Ayla being brought here because she was needed here. Was it because of what happened at Ostagar? Duncan had thought that magic had been the reason she'd appeared in the Wilds. Had Flemeth had something to do with it? Was that why she knew that Ayla wasn't from here, and what she might be needed to do? There were far too many questions that he didn't have the answers for, and he didn't think Ayla did, either. And if Flemeth did, he doubted she would provide them.

Ayla looked as though the same questions were running through her mind, but she nodded with determination. "I am ready, for whatever tasks I must fulfill."

Aedan seemed to be thinking things over, before he nodded in decision as well. "Yes, we are ready. Thank you for everything, Flemeth."

Flemeth shook her head, waving her hands with the motion. "No, no, thank _you_. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

Before any of them could ask what, Morrigan came back out of the hut and rejoined them. "The stew is bubbling, mother dear. Shall we have three guests for the eve, or none?"

Flemeth turned to look at her. "The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame," Morrigan began, in a tone that indicated she couldn't have been more pleased, before she suddenly seemed to hear the rest of what her mother said. " _What_?"

Alistair felt as shocked as Morrigan sounded. Flemeth wanted to send her mage daughter with them? Why? It was obvious she didn't want to go, either.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears," Flemeth cackled at her own joke.

"Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us –" Aedan began.

Flemeth cut him off. "Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

Well, when she put it that way, it didn't sound like a _completely_ terrible idea, Alistair thought. He'd been able to feel the horde growing larger and slowly surrounding them on all sides over the past few days, which is part of why he'd been getting so anxious waiting. He didn't know the Wilds well enough to know what paths to take to get around all the darkspawn. If Morrigan did, they might just survive long enough to get to the nearest town. As long as she was willing to do so, anyway.

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demanded angrily.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years," Flemeth retorted. "Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"Very well, we'll take her with us," Aedan said.

Alistair frowned. While he agreed in theory, he still found he couldn't agree without some protest. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate."

Flemeth turned a truly frightening glare on him. "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken," Alistair conceded meekly, and he saw Ayla's lips twitch in amusement.

Morrigan, however, didn't seem so ready to concede. "Mother, this is not how I wanted this, I am not even ready –"

Once again, Flemeth cut her off. "You must be ready. Alone, these three must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

Was that her reason for helping them? Alistair wondered. He supposed it made sense. Even a powerful mage could only stand for so long against a horde. But why them? Couldn't she have saved Duncan or some of the others? Or Cailan? Maybe they'd have been too hard to reach, in the middle of battle? He wanted to ask Flemeth all these questions, but he didn't think she'd give him a straight answer, especially since he'd probably pissed her off with his apostate remark. So he kept his mouth shut.

"I understand," Morrigan said at last, sounding defeated.

"And you, Wardens?" Flemeth turned to them. "Do _you_ understand? I give you that which I value above all else in this world. I do this because you must succeed."

"She won't come to harm with us," Aedan promised solemnly. He looked almost pleased at the thought of Morrigan joining them, Alistair noted.

Morrigan sighed. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

They all nodded. Morrigan disappeared back in the hut for a moment, then came back out with a pack. She turned to look at them all. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours." She shrugged as if she could care less.

Aedan grinned at her. "No, I prefer you speak your mind."

Alistair exchanged a glance with Ayla. She looked amused, and seemed to think the same thing as Alistair: that Aedan was rather looking forward to travelling with the witch. He seemed to be attracted to her, although it was beyond Alistair why he would be. Didn't he notice what a bitch she was?

Flemeth laughed. "You will regret saying that."

Morrigan turned to glare at her mother. "Dear sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Flemeth replied dismissively.

Alistair turned to look at Aedan. "I just . . . do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?" Of course he knew that wasn't the whole reason, but he was hoping to convince Aedan to leave her behind anyway.

Aedan shrugged. "We need all the help we can get."

Ayla nodded. "He's right, you know. That mage at the Tower was a big help, and right now, we're lacking a long range fighter. A mage could make a big difference."

Alistair sighed. Unfortunately, Ayla made perfect sense. They did need more help, and a mage would provide a strategic advantage. He was just having trouble getting over his dislike and distrust of both witches. "I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."

Morrigan turned her icy golden glare onto him. "I am so pleased to have your approval." Then she turned to her mother. "Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

Flemeth waved her off. "Bah. Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."

Alistair was shocked to see a look of actual hurt flash across Morrigan's face. Maybe she was human after all. "I - all I meant was . . ."

Flemeth's face softened. "Yes I know. Do try to have fun dear."

"We should probably get moving," Ayla pointed out. "Which way do we go?"

Morrigan sighed. After a last look at her mother and the hut, she began to walk towards a path off to their left that skirted around the edge of the swamp, motioning them to come after her. "Follow me."

The three of them fell into step after her, to begin their journey through the Wilds to Lothering. All Alistair could think about now was what would be in store for them when they reached the village. He hoped fate and the Maker would be a little kinder to them from this point on, though he didn't hold out any great hope for it.


	6. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and the others make their way to Lothering, and meet up with another ally on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: It's a bit longer than I meant it to be, and we only barely reach Lothering by the end. But I felt the scenes in here were important to show some characterization, and I wanted to at least get them to Lothering before I stopped. This one is from Alistair's POV as well. In later chapters, I might mix between two or more POVs in one chapter, but for now I'm sticking to one person per.

_Disclaimer: As always, Bioware owns original characters and their dialogue, I own Ayla and everything else._

On the Road

Alistair had barely spoken a word since they'd been on the road to Lothering. It had been a day and a half since they'd left Flemeth's hut in the Wilds. He had found, to his dismay, that now that they were on the road and had a plan of action, that he could no longer dismiss his grief.

It seemed that his grief was now overwhelming him, since there were no distractions anymore. No concerns about whether his companions would wake up, or what they'd do when they did. He didn't even have to be responsible for getting them through the Wilds. Morrigan, he admitted grudgingly, was doing a fine job of getting them around the darkspawn on her own.

So, to his horror and shame, the first time he'd tried to speak upon leaving the hut, he'd felt tears threatening to spill out. He was a warrior. _Duncan_ would never have cried if he'd been one of the only Grey Wardens left. He was determined not to cry. However, he found the only way he could manage that was if he barely spoke to anybody. So, he'd taken to hardly talking at all, and if anyone addressed him directly, he'd use one word answers or gestures to answer and brush them off.

He felt bad about it, especially about brushing off Ayla, as she'd tried to talk to him twice yesterday, trying to cheer him up and make him laugh, before giving up. But he was equally determined not to shame himself as a man and warrior by crying in front of her, so he tried to avoid her as much as possible. After the second time, she'd seemed to understand, and hadn't tried to engage him in conversation again. Instead, she'd spent all their time on the road and in the camp last night talking with Aedan, or Morrigan on the rare occasions she was around.

Morrigan seemed to like to go off ahead of the party by herself a lot, to scout the paths ahead, or so she said. Alistair had wondered once or twice if she should really go off by herself in darkspawn-infested Wilds, but since she'd come back fine every time, he concluded she could take care of herself. Last night, she'd even brought back some rabbits for their evening meal, as well as some herbs, and he'd found himself wondering how she'd caught them, since she wasn't in possession of any weapons he'd seen. Aedan and Ayla had also caught some game when they'd gone hunting, so between that, and the few loaves of bread and wheels of cheese Alistair had still had in his pack that Flemeth had apparently rescued, they'd actually had enough food to sustain all of them.

That wouldn't last, though, Alistair knew. They'd used up virtually all of the extra supplies he'd had, and Aedan had not had any food in his pack, just some money, weapons, and healing supplies. Ayla had not had a pack at all, and most of what Morrigan had was herbs used for healing or lyrium potions to sustain her magic. Alistair did have some money, a hundred silver pieces from his own Warden allowance, as well as what he'd picked up in the tower. Aedan had also managed to collect a few hundred silver pieces between escaping his former home and the tower, but neither of the women had any money.

They were going to need more money – a lot more money, Alistair knew. Besides the fact that it would take a lot of money to feed himself and Aedan, due to their vast Grey Warden appetites, there was also the matter of bolstering their healing supplies and their armor. They were either going to need to repair what armor he and Aedan had, or replace it altogether, as both their sets of splintmail had holes and damage from the darkspawn arrows. Besides that, he was also determined to get some sort of armor for Ayla. They were going to have to find a way to make some money in Lothering.

He glanced around at his companions as they traipsed along the road. They were getting close to Lothering – they should be able to make it there before dark. Morrigan was, for once, with the rest of the group. She and Aedan were in the lead at the moment, while he and Ayla took up the rear. He appreciated the fact that Ayla had been walking next to him for the last few hours, in a show of silent support. He knew he was going to have to start talking soon. After all, he'd have to bring up the discussion of money and what they were going to do for supplies.

Just as he was thinking that, and thinking that maybe he could talk right now without his grief overwhelming him, he noticed that Ayla looked distinctly disturbed. She was walking along the dirt road they were currently on, continually scanning the horizon, her hands tight on the hilts of her swords. He couldn't help but pick out the anxiety in her gaze and the fact that she looked like a distinctly ruffled cat.

"Ayla." He kept his voice low, and even still she almost jumped, before visibly forcing herself to relax and look up at him questioningly. "Is something the matter?" He was proud of himself; he'd gotten the entire sentence out without even feeling like he was going to tear up.

She looked around again. "No – yes – I don't know. I'm not used to this . . . darkspawn thing. It's so unnaturally quiet around here – and the _smell_ – I'm finding it very difficult to relax. This isn't what I'm used to." She sounded almost annoyed at herself for letting her agitation show.

Alistair pondered her words as they walked. It was true that the wilderness around them was unnaturally silent, devoid of any normal wildlife noises one would experience. The darkspawn and the taint tended to do that. He was a little surprised she'd remarked on the smell – he couldn't recall smelling anything especially out of the ordinary on this section of the road.

Maybe he was just used to it, though. He had to admit that the silence no longer disturbed him, as in his past six months with the Grey Wardens, he'd spent as much time in darkspawn-infested wilderness as not. It was a little disconcerting to realize that he'd started to think of the absence of the life as normal, and was no longer bothered by it.

"I know – and I'm sorry," he said at last. He finally decided to say something he'd intended to say when they got to Lothering. "You know, I won't blame you if you decide you don't want to help any longer. The stakes are a lot higher now, and the odds of success a lot lower. I know this isn't what you agreed to when you asked to help."

He looked down at her, secretly hoping, though it was selfish, that she still wanted to come. She had turned her head to look up at him, and he was surprised to see a little bit of hurt and anger cross her features.

"Do you really think I would abandon you now?" she asked quietly, her voice deliberately even as though to keep anger out of it. "If anything, you need my help far more now than you did before. In fact, I rather think this is the reason why I'm here, because now you need help anywhere you can manage to get it. And I made the deal – on my _honor_ , as a warrior, to help you end the Blight. I intend to hold up my end of the bargain, if you intend to hold up yours." She pierced him with an intense gaze.

He held up his hands defensively. He hadn't realized the question would anger her so much, although the fact that she'd stressed the word honor hadn't escaped him. He realized it might've sounded a little bit like he'd questioned her honor. "Of course I intend to hold up my end of the bargain, if we get through this alive! I just – wanted to be fair to you, since this is a far more complicated situation than you first expected, or agreed to. I'm sorry if I offended you – I didn't mean to."

She seemed to relax, and even gave him a wry grin. "Apology accepted. And, to be fair, may I point out that you have no idea how complicated holding up your end of the bargain might be?"

He actually found himself chuckling before he stopped in shock. _Did I just do that?_ Apparently, she had succeeded in sufficiently distracting him from his grief. Maybe he'd be able to deal with this after all. He smiled down at her, in thanks and in agreement. "I suppose that's true. Who knows, you might end up owing _me_ after all this is done."

The answering smile that broke across her face nearly took his breath away. It made lights dance in her green eyes. "We'll see who owes who once this is all over with. But I _am_ sticking with you until the end."

"I am relieved to hear it, my lady." He gave her a mocking bow, though in truth he _was_ very relieved to hear that she was going to stay.

It was at that moment he felt the familiar and sickening tingle along the base of his neck and down his spine that meant darkspawn were nearing. He turned his head to look down the road, at the same time as Ayla did. "Darkspawn approaching!"

As soon as he said it, he heard the sound of barking. Suddenly, a gigantic mabari war hound came running down the road towards them. Just as Alistair was putting his hand to his sword, the hound screeched to a stop in front of Aedan, tongue lolling, and wagged his tail.

"Striker!" Aedan was down on his knee in an instant, wrapping his arms around the dog's thick neck. It gave him a swipe of the tongue alongside his neck in return.

"No time for that!" Alistair warned as he drew his sword. A band of darkspawn had come charging down the road following the dog.

He ran past Aedan and Morrigan, shield and sword out. Ayla was at his side, keeping pace easily. Aedan straightened up, and moved out to Alistair's right, as he'd done in the tower. The hound, Striker, streaked past them and flung itself at the first approaching genlock, which went down with a shriek under a hundred and fifty pounds of mabari. A bolt of lightning shot past them and struck the next approaching genlock, lighting it up with electricity.

Alistair took point, as he'd done in the tower, knowing that it made the most tactical sense, as he was the biggest and the only one with a shield. He rammed the first one he saw with said shield, knocking it easily to the ground. Before he could even finish it off with his sword, Ayla was already there, separating its head from its shoulders.

They continued on in that fashion, he providing a distraction and knocking down the enemy as much as possible, while Ayla took advantage of their distraction. Aedan and his hound pursued a similar course of action, while Morrigan continued her offensive magic from behind them. It was a help, Alistair had to admit, although he could've sworn once or twice the bolts got rather closer to hitting _him_ than they should have. Between the four of them and the hound, however, they made fairly short work of the darkspawn.

Alistair had to admit to feeling distinctly more like himself by the time they'd finished the battle. Fighting was something that had always cleared his mind. They all wiped off and re-sheathed their weapons, and Striker trotted back over to Aedan, tail wagging again.

"Good boy," Aedan murmured, wrapping an arm around the dog's neck again. "You must have found your way out of the Wilds and back to me, huh?" The dog licked his face again and barked in response.

Alistair was a little surprised at Aedan's reaction, until it suddenly dawned on him that the hound was likely the only thing Aedan had left of his family and former life. With all that had happened at Ostagar, Alistair had nearly forgotten that Aedan had lost as much – if not more – than he had. He felt ashamed for his reaction over the last day and a half all over again. Aedan had been holding it together much better than him.

Ayla came over to Aedan and Striker. "What a handsome dog and good fighter you are." She knelt in front of the dog, offering her hand. "My name is Ayla, it is my honor to meet you."

Striker turned from his master, sniffed her hand, barked, and then plopped a massive paw into her outstretched hand. She shook it gravely, and the dog wagged its short stub of a tail again. She let his paw down gently before standing up and patting the dog on his head.

Alistair noted that Aedan was staring at her in outright amazement. He knew that mabari imprinted themselves on one person – in this case Aedan – and while they could still be friendly with other people, it usually required their master's say-so first. Ayla had managed to somehow effortlessly charm the dog. _Just like she's done to you,_ he thought to himself wryly.

"Does this mean we'll have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful," Morrigan's tone as she came up to the others was completely scathing, as usual.

"Hey, he's not mangy!" Alistair protested. Partly because he himself had always wanted a mabari, but never had the opportunity, and partly just to disagree with Morrigan. She hadn't resisted any opportunity to needle him so far, even though he'd avoided responding to her until now.

"Indeed," Ayla agreed, smiling down at the dog. "He's a brave warrior, and sure to be a big help in our fight."

Striker barked and danced around in agreement. Aedan stood up again, smiling the most genuine smile Alistair had seen on him so far. "It is good to have you back, old friend. I am glad you found your way to us alive." Aedan turned to Morrigan. "Are we nearly there now?"

Morrigan sighed heavily, as if realizing she was entirely alone in her dislike of the dog. "Indeed, tis only a couple more hours down this road. We should continue moving. It would be best to reach Lothering by nightfall."

They continued down the road past the darkspawn corpses, now with one extra party member. Alistair felt better than he had since waking up in the hut, and began to hope he might be able to manage his grief.

True to Morrigan's word, they spotted Lothering on the horizon inside of a couple of hours. The dirt road they were on turned into a stone highway of sorts as it got closer to the town, which served almost as a bridge just above and to the west of the bulk of the town.

As they got closer to the archway of stone and the stairs that led down into the town, they noticed that the way ahead was blocked by a band of men, surrounded by piles of boxes and carts. One man stood out in front of the others, clearly the leader. As they drew even closer, Alistair saw a dead body lying against the stone wall to the side.

He felt his fists tighten in anger. "Highwaymen, praying on those fleeing the darkspawn," he whispered to Ayla, who was still at his side.

Before she could respond, the man out in front hailed them. "Look, more travellers to attend to. This one looks like the leader." He addressed Aedan, who had remained in front. His regal bearing, well-crafted, if holey, armor and gleaming sword practically screamed nobleman, so it was no wonder the bandit thought he was the leader, Alistair mused. Not that he minded. He'd rather leave the leadership of this whole endeavour to someone else. He didn't want the ultimate responsibility for the Blight and everyone's lives on him, or he really would have a breakdown.

A big, dim-witted looking man next to the falsely jovial leader spoke up. There were a few more men behind these two. All of them wore leather armor, and were rather scruffy looking. Typical bandits, and Alistair didn't think they would pose any great threat to their group. "These don't look like them others. Maybe we should let them pass."

"Oh, please don't," Ayla drawled. "It would be _so_ much more interesting if you tried to get in our way."

Alistair looked down at her in surprise. Her hands were on her swords, and she was practically vibrating with her eagerness to draw them. Her beautiful green eyes were gleaming with anticipation. While he wouldn't mind disposing of the bandits himself, as he thought that what they were doing, preying on the desperation and fear of the refugees fleeing the darkspawn, was the lowest thing one person could do to another, he wasn't anticipating the fight with the same whole-hearted glee she seemed to be employing. However, he found himself surprisingly aroused by her reaction, which he didn't think was strictly healthy either.

"They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson," Morrigan agreed with Ayla, crossing her arms disdainfully.

"Now is that any way to greet someone!" the bandit leader exclaimed, spreading his arms wide. "Tsk tsk tsk. A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on."

Alistair looked towards Aedan, wondering what he would do. Aedan placed one hand, ever so casually, on the hilt of his greatsword. "You should listen to your friend. We're not refugees." The threat in his voice was clear.

"What did I tell you?" The big one spoke up. "No wagons, and they all look armed."

The bandit leader shook his head, clearly exasperated. "The toll applies to everyone. That's why it's a toll, and not say, a refugee tax."

"Oh right. Even if you're no refugee you still gotta pay," the big one agreed, as though this were a brilliant idea.

Alistair looked at the band of bandits, wondering if they were suicidal. They were willing to face down three armed warriors, a woman who was obviously a mage, and a mabari hound for ten silvers? Well, if they wanted to die, it wasn't really his problem, Alistair supposed.

"Forget it, we're not paying." Aedan's voice now held an edge of anger to go along with the threat, and Striker started growling.

The bandit leader shook his head mournfully, as if _they_ were the ones with a death wish. "Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know."

The big one nodded, drawing his sword. "Right, we get to ransack your corpse then, those are the rules."

"You can certainly try," Aedan replied, before drawing his own sword.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Ayla shot past him, taking a flying leap at the big bandit, swords first. The man was so startled; he didn't even swing his sword in time. As with the ogre, she struck him full in the chest, knocking him backwards. She yanked her swords out and finished the job with a ruthless stroke.

His heart in his throat, Alistair had shot after her, mindful of her armor-less state. It was fortunate he had, because he was able to block the sword of another bandit on his shield that had been swinging straight for her unprotected back. He pivoted so that he was in front of Ayla, protecting her from the others, as he thrust his shield forward to knock the bandit off balance. He began to engage the man in attack.

The battle was joined behind him. Aedan was fighting with the bandit leader, Striker had taken down one of the others, and Morrigan had cast a freezing spell on a fourth one. There was one more bandit remaining who was climbing up on top of a crate to start shooting his bow; however, Ayla had leapt up after him. It didn't take long for Alistair and the others to finish off the bandits. While they could certainly pose trouble for refugees, none of the bandits had anywhere near the level of fighting experience they did.

The bandit leader had attempted to surrender when he realized all his men were dead. At least, Alistair thought he had. He'd stopped fighting Aedan and held up his sword, but before he could say whatever he'd been about to, Ayla had leapt down from the crate where she'd dispatched the archer and run him through with both swords. Aedan had merely shrugged, apparently undisturbed at this turn of events, and Morrigan had looked almost pleased.

Alistair couldn't quite decide his own reaction as they all stood for a moment catching their breath. On the one hand, he was a little surprised at Ayla's ruthlessness and careless disregard for her own safety in fighting the bandits. On the other hand, as she stood there, face flushed and chest heaving from her exertions, eyes aglow, he couldn't recall ever being more aroused in his life. There had to be something wrong with that, he thought. But at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to yank her in his arms and kiss her senseless. He was probably seconds away from doing just that when Aedan's voice brought him back to his senses.

"Search the bodies," Aedan directed. He was already crouched down next to the bandit leader, rifling through his pockets and satchel. "We need all the money and supplies we can get."

Alistair took a deep breath, steadying himself before he knelt next to the bandit he'd killed. They all went through the bandits' belongings, looting all the money, health poultices and other supplies they could find. The crates they decided to leave; they wouldn't be able to carry those along anyway. Once they'd finished, Aedan directed them to continue on towards the stairs leading down off the highway to Lothering.

Ayla was back to her normal self, Alistair noted as they approached the stairs. Or what he knew as her normal self, anyway. He had to remind himself he didn't really know her that well at all. She'd found an intact pack among the bandits' supplies that she'd decided to use as her own, and had it slung over her shoulder. She'd also liberated some of the bandits' weapons, saying that they could sell them in town, which Alistair admitted the wisdom of. He'd decided that at some point, when they had a chance to talk alone, he was going to ask her about her reaction to the bandits, among other things. But now was not the time for that.

They all stopped as they reached the stairs leading down to Lothering, taking in the view of the settlement below. It was currently packed to the brim with people and tents, far busier than when Alistair had last passed this way. He decided a little of his old humor was called for. He spread his arms out to indicate the view below. "Well, there it is. Lothering, pretty as a painting."

Morrigan snorted. "Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble I take it?"

"Morrigan," Ayla snarled in warning. Alistair turned to look at her, surprised she'd made the snarl so realistic. Her voice was normally quite light and pleasant. He was also a little pleased she was standing up for him, and that Morrigan looked fairly shocked at this fact. But he'd had quite enough of the witch.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" He snapped in return. Now that he'd found he could speak without the choking grief, it was time to let the witch have it. "Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?"

Morrigan crossed her arms and smirked at him. "Before or after I stopped laughing?"

Alistair groaned to himself. He thought her flash of hurt back at the hut meant she might be a little human. Now he could see he'd been entirely wrong. "Right, very creepy, forget I asked."

"Enough!" Aedan snapped, striding in between the two of them. "What did you want to talk about, Alistair?"

"His navel, I suspect," Morrigan taunted. "He certainly has been contemplating it for long enough."

Alistair scowled at her. "Oh, I get it, this is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend in your entire life."

"I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so."

Alistair was about to make a bristling comment to this last remark when Ayla laid a hand on his arm. He swore he could feel the touch burning him through his splintmail as he looked at her. She shook her head at him, seeming to be resigned to the fact that Morrigan was not going to stop being a bitch. "It's not worth it, Alistair. But she's right, you have been very quiet."

Alistair sighed, covering her hand with his own. "You're right, I'm sorry." He didn't offer an explanation, however, too embarrassed to discuss it in front of Morrigan, of all people. Instead, he turned to Aedan. "Anyway, I thought we should talk about where we intend to go first."

Aedan arched a brow. "You have some thoughts on that point, Alistair?"

"This should be good," Morrigan mumbled acidly.

Alistair shot a glare at her, but left it alone. "I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea. These treaties . . . have you looked at them?"

Aedan nodded. "Yes, I have. I read them over at the camp last night."

Encouraged by the fact that Aedan was listening so far, Alistair continued. "There are three main groups that we have treaties for: the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi. I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first."

Ayla nodded in agreement. She had since taken her hand away, and Alistair found that he sorely missed it. "If you know this Arl, that might be the wisest thing to do. We might have a better chance of getting immediate help from him than the other groups, unless someone has a personal tie to any of these other ones you mentioned." She looked at the others, but they shook their heads in response.

Aedan crossed his arms, seeming to consider all the points made as he gazed out over Lothering. "Why are you leaving it up to me?" he asked at last, turning back to Alistair. "You're the senior Warden, shouldn't you be in charge?"

Alistair had been dreading this question, especially in front of Morrigan. He'd hoped Aedan would just take over the leadership without question. He was a nobleman's son, after all, born and bred to lead. Whereas Alistair himself had been born and bred to follow. He was not about to try to change that now, when so much was at stake.

He sighed. "Maybe I am the senior Warden, but only by a few months. I don't know much more than you do. You've been taught to lead, I haven't. So I'm leaving the leading up to you, since I don't know where we should go. If you have any questions about the Wardens or want advice, I'll help, but I'll do whatever you decide."

"Now _that_ is unsurprising," Morrigan drawled.

"Oh, shut up for once," Ayla snapped at her. She turned to Aedan. "I'll help in any way I can too. I have led troops before, but I know nothing about what's going on in this country, so I can't be of much help with the final decisions. But, like Alistair said, I'll be happy to provide my opinion if you'd like."

Aedan nodded. "I appreciate the sentiment, both of you. All right, Alistair. I'll take the lead on the Blight. But I'd like everybody to offer their opinions, and I'll try to take everybody's advice into consideration before I make final decisions. Do you know where all these people are, Alistair? I'm afraid I wasn't the best geography student."

Alistair sighed in relief. The burden of leadership was off him, and better yet, Aedan sounded like he'd be a fair leader that Alistair could respect. He almost sounded like Duncan, in fact. "I do actually know where they are. Duncan and I talked it over after the Joining."

He told Aedan the locations – that the circle of Magi was probably the closest, to the north by Lake Calenhad, just past Redcliffe. The Brecilian Forest to the east was where they could find a clan of Dalish elves, though how long exactly that would take would be anybody's guess, since the nomadic elves never stayed in one place very long. Finally, the dwarves in Orzammar were far to the north, in the Frostback Mountains, and would probably take many weeks to reach.

"All right," Aedan said, clapping his hands together after Alistair finished. "I think we should go to Redcliffe first. It's the closest, and anyway, as Ayla said, our chances of getting aid are probably highest there. We'll decide which of the treaties to fill after Redcliffe. I'm ready to get going if the rest of you are."

Everybody nodded in agreement, and Alistair felt relieved. Not only was Aedan taking his advice, but he was sure that Arl Eamon would be of great help to them, and would know exactly what they should do. He grinned at Aedan. "Fair enough. Let's head into the village whenever you're ready."

Aedan led the way down the stairs into the village, and the rest of them followed. Alistair was relieved that everything was going well so far, and could only hope that their trip into Lothering was uneventful. At the very least, he now had two people with him that he felt he could trust. Maybe things would turn out okay after all.

 


	7. Lothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party enters Lothering, and picks up a new ally. Chapter is from Ayla's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is apparently going to be a lot longer than I anticipated, even with skipping some of the conversations and splitting the party members up. There's still a lot of stuff that I want to cover, and the practical part of me that's striving for believability can't ignore the necessity for armor, money, supplies, etc. I'd hoped to get Lothering all into one chapter, but didn't quite manage, as it was getting a lot longer than I anticipated. So I stopped in what I hope is a good place. And I'm afraid I won't be able to skip all major conversations and events, even though I know this is all old hat to most of you. I really want to show Ayla's take on things as much as possible.

 

 

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Thedas, etc._

Lothering

Ayla followed behind the others as they made their way down the stone stairs into the town. She'd heard the others call it Lothering. It was like any other town she could ever recall seeing – lots of cramped wooden houses, with some bigger houses and stone structures among the bunch. Directly across from them, surrounded by a stone wall, was what appeared to pass for a church here. The town, however, was overflowing with anxious refugees and tents. Not to mention, it stank, especially to her over-sensitive nose. It was like a smell of sweat, unwashed people, dirt, refuse, and she even swore she could smell a little desperation.

Aedan halted in front of them, and turned to face them. "We should probably go over what we plan to do here. We won't be able to leave tonight; it's too close to nightfall already. We'll need to stock up on supplies, and find a place to stay for the night, if possible."

Alistair nodded in agreement. "We'll need more money, too. We only have a few hundred silver, and we're going to need a lot of supplies, not to mention armor repairs or new armor. Ayla, I think we should pick up some armor for you as well."

Ayla frowned. She didn't necessarily disagree with this. She had no armor at the moment. Usually she only wore a light shirt of chainmail beneath her tunic, and occasionally bracers. But when she'd been pulled through the portal, she hadn't had even that much on, as she'd only been intending on a short walk. It was just lucky that she'd had her swords and daggers with her, as she almost never went anywhere unarmed. However, she didn't relish the thought of wearing the kind of armor that Alistair and Aedan wore. Aside from the possibility of it dulling her powers, she also knew she wouldn't be able to fight as effectively in it, as her style depended mainly on speed and agility.

"I'm not sure about that," she hedged. "I don't think I could fight effectively in anything like that." She waved her hand at the splintmail suits both Alistair and Aedan wore.

Alistair shook his head, looking down at her with concern in his warm hazel eyes. She knew why he was pressing the issue; it was the same reason he'd charged after her in the bandit fight, taking the blow meant for her on his shield. He wanted to protect her. Ordinarily, she would have been irritated, but for some reason, she found it sweet coming from him. "I wouldn't want you to have the same type of armor as us, anyway. We can get you leather armor meant for rogues; it's designed to be light and easy to move it in, but it will still be better than a tunic for stopping arrows."

"I agree with Alistair," Aedan spoke up. "Aside from the benefits of having armor, you'll blend in better than you are now. No one wears clothing like you have on in Ferelden, and the heraldry on your tunic is an unknown one. It'll be best if we can find you something else."

Ayla sighed. She couldn't argue with that reasoning. She hadn't seen anyone wearing a similar outfit to hers, either in the camp at Ostagar or here. It appeared that if a person in Ferelden wasn't wearing some type of armor, then they were wearing simple woven clothing, dresses or tunics and leggings. Additionally, no one wore tunics and leggings with weapons. Besides, maybe leather armor wouldn't be so bad. "All right, if you can find me some of that leather armor, I'll give it a try."

Alistair smiled at her, the first full and genuine smile she'd seen from him in the last couple of days. It made her heart skip a beat. She was relieved that he was talking again. While she understood the need to separate from others while grieving, she found that she'd greatly missed bantering with him, and she had so much she wanted to know about him still. Aedan was a good man, as well, but she didn't find him nearly as much fun to talk to as Alistair. It would also be a lot easier to proceed with her plan to seduce Alistair if he was talking to her, she thought wryly.

"We also need to find out as much information as we can," Aedan was continuing as he scanned the crowds around them. "We need to know what's going on in Ferelden now that the king and most of the army are dead. It'll be easier to proceed with as much information as possible."

"I would suggest questioning that man over there," Morrigan said, gesturing with her hand to a man standing guard several yards ahead of them, blocking the dirt road leading towards the rest of the town. He was dressed in the armor that Ayla had seen on the Templars; the full plate with the purple skirting around the bottom. "He seems to be in charge of directing the refugees."

Aedan nodded, and gestured to them all to follow as he closed the distance between them and the Templar. The man hailed him as he got closer, stating that there was no more room for refugees. Aedan brushed his worries off, explaining that they weren't refugees and were just passing through.

He proceeded to question the man about who was in charge in Lothering. It appeared that the local lord, whom they referred to as a Bann, had left the town, taking all of the local army with him to join Teyrn Loghain. This left only the Templars to guard the townsfolk and run things. When asked who was now in charge, the Templar suggested they either speak to his commander, Ser Bryant, in the Chantry, or Elder Miriam. Both were apparently trying to do their best to keep the town running in the lord's absence.

Aedan wound up the conversation, and then directed them all down the road a little further. "It looks like there's a merchant's wagon just down the road here. Let's get as many supplies as we can first."

Ayla followed him and the others as they continued down the road, towards the wagon. The man who was standing next to it was arguing with a woman in pink robes emblazoned with a sunburst. Ayla had seen similar robes on the women preaching about the Maker in the camp at Ostagar. She guessed this meant the woman was a priestess. A few others had started to gather around to listen to the exchange.

As they got within earshot, it became apparent that the priestess was arguing with the merchant over his charges. It sounded like he was in possession of most of the supplies, and was charging exorbitant amounts to the desperate refugees. The merchant claimed this was his right, and both were getting increasingly heated. As the group approached, with Aedan in the lead, they pulled him into the argument.

The priestess wanted Aedan to force the man to lower his prices, or better yet, not charge anything at all, while the merchant offered a hundred silver pieces to Aedan if he'd drive the woman off.

"It's so nice to see everyone working together in a crisis! It warms the heart!" Alistair said sarcastically. Ayla couldn't help but smile; she could see his point. It seemed like no one in this country was interested in working together in the face of the Blight.

She watched as Aedan, with impressive skill, smoothed the priestess' ruffled feathers and convinced the merchant that he could lower his prices and still make a profit. The crowd dispersed once Aedan began trading with the merchant.

"So we have come to solve every squabble in the village personally? My, but the darkspawn will be impressed," Morrigan said acidly, folding her arms as she watched. Ayla noted that despite her harsh words, she still seemed to be impressed with Aedan in general.

The two women watched as Alistair and Aedan spoke with the merchant. Upon finding out that there was no blacksmith or armorer currently present in Lothering, they bought new sets of armor for themselves, persuading the merchant to pay them a small amount for their damaged armor. They also sold him the weapons Ayla had gotten off the bandits, as well as some other supplies they'd looted from the bandits. In return, they bought a suit of leather armor, as well as various food supplies, healing poultices, and the supplies to make more poultices.

Once done, the two men donned their new sets of armor, and distributed the supplies among the party's packs. Ayla wore nothing but smallclothes beneath her tunic, so she stored her new armor in her pack for the moment, promising to change into it when she found somewhere private to do so. Honestly, she wouldn't have minded giving Alistair a show, but she didn't want the whole town to witness it as well.

"We should check the Chantry board, see if they have any job postings," Alistair said once they were ready to move on. "We barely have any money left now."

"Good idea," Aedan agreed, and the party headed over to the stone wall surrounding the Chantry. There was a large board just outside the stone wall, covered in bits of paper. A man in robes stood next to it, along with a small child. The man kept saying odd things, almost as though he were talking in riddles or verse, and Ayla didn't understand it. None of the other party members commented, though, so she left it alone.

After looking over the bits of paper, Aedan pulled one off. "This sounds promising. There's a group of bandits plaguing the outskirts of the town, and they're paying a decent amount to anyone that can take them out."

"Well, if they want to pay us to kill bandits, we can hardly turn _that_ down." Ayla smiled with savage glee, her hands tightening on her sword hilts. Ever since her father had been killed, she couldn't help the unhealthy rage she felt over bandits in general. Logically, she knew that every set she came across were not the same as the ones who'd killed her father. Nevertheless, as soon as she came across any bandits, she seemed to lose all her control, and became more than happy to dispatch them by any means necessary.

She saw Alistair looking at her with concern and confusion. "Um . . . right. Well, we _could_ use the money, and we can't leave them to rob these poor people."

She knew he didn't get it. She'd seen the conflicting emotions on his face after she'd killed the bandit leader. He hadn't necessarily approved of the fact that she hadn't given the man a chance to surrender. She'd been too overwhelmed with fury to even stop, however. She also hadn't missed the fact that he'd wanted her. She couldn't fail to notice the lust stamped on his face, or the fact that those hazel eyes of his had darkened with desire. She could definitely get used to that look.

She could also get used to the fact that him merely _looking_ at her had sent a spark of lust all through her body. She couldn't ever remember reacting to a man in such a way. Unfortunately, it hadn't been the time or the place, what with the darkspawn close behind and refugees everywhere. So she hadn't closed the distance between them like she'd wanted to. She wasn't used to denying herself a little post-battle exercise, though. She _was_ going to act on it eventually. She might even tell him why she felt the way she did about bandits. But not right now.

"We'll wait until tomorrow to take care of the bandits." Aedan had tucked the paper away, and his tone brooked no disagreement. Though Ayla would've liked to go after the bandits right now, she could wait. They'd still be just as dead tomorrow. "Right now, we should gather information, get something to eat, and find a place to sleep for the night. I think it might be faster if we split up. Alistair, how about you and Ayla go talk to Ser Bryant in the Chantry? Morrigan and I will go try to find this Elder Miriam. There's a tavern across the bridge. We can meet there after we're done."

Alistair nodded, and turned to Ayla. "Shall we, my lady?" He gave her that little mocking bow he seemed so fond of.

"Indeed, good ser." She swept him a teasing curtsy using her cloak in answer, and was pleased to see an amused glint in his eyes. "Lead the way."

Aedan shook his head at their antics, although he looked amused as well, before he turned and headed for the stone bridge to their left. Morrigan followed him across the bridge, which spanned a stream, to the other half of the town. Striker trotted after his master. Alistair headed for the entrance in the stone wall, and Ayla followed.

They headed up the stone stairs, and approached the large double doors at the front of the Chantry. Another Templar stood guard by them, but when Alistair told him they had business with Ser Bryant, he let them pass. Alistair pushed the doors open, and the two of them went inside.

It wasn't hard to pick out Ser Bryant. He was standing just inside the Chantry, wearing the customary Templar armor, issuing instructions to other Templars to keep the townsfolk safe for as long as possible. Alistair approached him, and Ayla stayed at his side, but stood back a little. She was more than happy to let Alistair deal with these Templars.

"Who might you be?" Ser Bryant asked as they stopped in front of him.

"I am the Grey Warden Alistair, and this is my companion Ayla."

Ayla saw the start of surprise that passed across the Templar's features. He didn't look pleased, she noted. "I see. I am Ser Bryant, commander of the Lothering Templars. Teyrn Loghain has declared all Grey Wardens traitors, responsible for the King's death. You know this, I hope?"

Shock and fury flitted across Alistair's face, and he clenched his fists. Ayla could only imagine how he must feel. She knew she'd be similarly furious if her Order were ever declared traitors to their country. "What? The Grey Wardens did no such thing. We would _never_ betray the King!"

Ser Bryant seemed to relax somewhat in the face of Alistair's shock and denial. He shrugged. "I don't believe the Grey Wardens would be as careless or malicious as the Teyrn claims, but either way, there it is. It is best you not linger, though, just in case. Do you have some business with me?"

Alistair still seemed to be struggling with his fury. Ayla laid a hand on his arm again. He looked down at her, almost as though he had forgotten she was there. "Leave it alone," she murmured. "There isn't anything you can do about it right now."

Alistair gave a terse nod, and relaxed his stance. She let go of his arm, and he turned back to Ser Bryant, asking questions about the current state of the town and what he knew about the results of the battle. During his talk with Ser Bryant, it came out that they'd dispatched the bandits, which seemed to impress the Templars. Ser Bryant insisted on rewarding them with some silver, and although Alistair seemed uncomfortable with it, he took it anyway. Ayla knew he was concerned about the state of their funds, and he had every right to be. It would take a lot of money to fuel this journey of theirs.

Finally, he ended the conversation with Ser Bryant, and they drew away a little. "You know," Alistair began, "they probably have some rooms in the Chantry here where you could change into your armor. We can check with the Sisters." He nodded down the aisle at the robed women gathered around the altar.

Ayla nodded in agreement. "That's probably a good idea. I might as well start blending in as soon as possible." She winked at him, and got a half-smile in response.

They began to make their way further into the Chantry. As they walked between the rows of pews, Ayla noticed another warrior to the side, poring over a tome on a table. He wasn't armored like the Templars, but rather in platemail, and bore a shield on his back with the heraldry of a white tower on top of red rocks. Alistair stopped in his tracks next to her. "Ser Donall – is that you?"

The man turned, and shock stamped across his bearded face as he saw who was behind him. "Alistair? By the Maker, how are you? I – I was certain you were dead!"

"Not yet, no thanks to Teyrn Loghain," Alistair replied bitterly.

Ayla leaned over and whispered, "While you're catching up with him, I'll go find a place to change." She didn't think there was any need for her to intrude on his reunion with his friend.

He nodded, and she left him to his conversation while she went over to one of the robed Sisters. After a quick discussion, the Sister took her to a small room with a cot to allow her to change. With the door closed, she quickly stripped out of her outfit and began to put on the armor. She was pleased to find once she was all done that it was actually fairly comfortable. It was a well crafted set of leathers that, once she'd done the laces, fit nicely to her body and allowed for ease of movement. She did a few experimental bends and twists and wasn't disappointed. In addition, it was hardened enough to allow a decent amount of protection, especially in comparison to her tunic.

She looked down at herself and grinned; it also showed more skin than her previous outfit. The top was low-cut and shaped to her form, leaving little of her to the imagination, and the bottom was skirted. Though it went down to her knees, there was still an expanse of bare leg between the bottom of the skirt and the tops of the new leather boots. She couldn't wait to see Alistair's reaction.

She stuffed her old clothing into her pack, because there was no way she was leaving it behind, even if she couldn't wear it currently. She put her armband back on, and strapped her swords back on as well, then left the room. She thanked the Sister for its use, and headed back over to Alistair. As she reached him, it became apparent that he was just wrapping up his conversation with Ser Donall. Ser Donall was saying something to the effect of returning to Redcliffe as soon as possible. So, he was a knight of Redcliffe, then. Hopefully that meant Alistair had gathered some more information.

"Yes, you're right, I should go as well." Alistair turned in her direction, his face troubled. When he saw her coming towards him, however, he stopped dead.

"Well, do you like it?" she asked impishly, turning in a circle to give him the full benefit.

His eyes swept up and down her body, lingering on the bare skin, before they shot back up to her face. She could see the desire in his eyes again that sent a flash of heat through her, but at the same time, a blush spread over his face, and he abruptly averted his eyes. Well, that just wasn't fair, she thought. She could deal with him being funny, sexy, and skilled. He shouldn't be allowed to be adorable when he blushed, on top of everything. How was a woman supposed to defend against that?

"I – I," he stammered. "I uh – I guess it looks suitable."

She considered teasing him further, but decided that would be too cruel. Instead, she switched to a more serious topic. "You looked troubled. What did your friend have to say?"

As soon as she mentioned it, his face fell, and he looked her in the eyes again. "Apparently, Arl Eamon has fallen ill. He's so ill that they're looking for the Sacred Ashes, which are said to cure any illness, in order to heal him. Most of the knights of Redcliffe are out looking for the ashes. It makes me believe we need to go to Redcliffe now more than ever."

"I'm sorry, Alistair, I know you were looking forward to seeing him again," she said gently. How much more was he going to have to deal with? "But we'll be heading for Redcliffe next, right? We can learn more once we get there." She paused, a thought occurring to her. "I wonder if this Loghain had something to do with his illness? It seems – well-timed."

Alistair looked sick for a second as he considered, then furious. "Do you think he really could have something to do with it? I don't understand what he thinks he's doing! Is now really the time to tear the country apart?"

She wished that she could do something more for him, and that thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit. "I'm afraid I don't have any answers. Maybe one day soon we can confront Loghain himself. We should probably go meet up with Aedan now."

He nodded wearily. "I suppose you're right."

They made their way out of the Chantry and across the bridge to the tavern in silence. Ayla wished she knew what to say; she'd never been that good at comforting words. She also knew too little about this world to offer better opinions. She was relieved as they approached the tavern to see Aedan and Morrigan waiting outside.

The four of them talked over what they'd found out in low voices. Aedan was equally furious to find out that the Grey Wardens had been labelled traitors, and concerned that the Arl was sick. He also mentioned how he and Morrigan had come across a person they called a "Qunari" that had been caged for murder and left there. He wanted to see if they could get the man released to help them fight, but they would have to ask the Revered Mother, who was the head of the Chantry, and apparently was in charge of his imprisonment.

Ayla thought it was a good idea to get him released. She didn't have a problem with executing someone if they'd committed a crime, but it should be quick and clean. Leaving someone to starve in a cage or to be torn apart by those darkspawn creatures was not a fate she thought anyone deserved. She and Alistair both agreed with Aedan that they should try to get him released, but they decided to talk to the Revered Mother the next day. According to Aedan, they'd have to go back to the Chantry to gather their reward for the job posting anyway, so they could take care of both at the same time, once the bandits were dispatched.

After they'd come to an agreement, they all headed to the doors of the tavern, Aedan in the lead. As they entered, Ayla noted that it was packed with people – pretty much standing-room only. There were two levels, and both were filled to capacity. It was also beyond warm and stuffy. She noticed almost right away as they entered that there was a group of five fully armed men standing by the bar, glaring at anyone who got too near. As the door swung closed behind them, the men turned and looked in their direction. She saw the recognition pass across their faces before they all stalked towards them.

"Look what we have here men, I think we've just been blessed," one of the men in the lead said, smirking at them.

"Uh oh. Loghain's men, this can't be good," Alistair murmured to her, his hand going to his sword hilt. The two of them were standing behind Aedan and Morrigan. She didn't miss Alistair's attempt to carefully angle himself in front of her, and wondered why she still wasn't annoyed by his misplaced need to try to protect her. Only her brother had ever tried to protect her this much, and it had always bothered her whenever he or anyone else even attempted it. Another puzzle involving Alistair she would have to work out.

"Didn't we spend all morning asking about two men by this very description?" Another of the men spoke up, gesturing to Aedan and Alistair. "And everyone said they hadn't seen either of them?"

The first man's eyes narrowed as his own hand went to his sword. "It seems we were lied to."

Ayla noticed out of the corner of her eye, a Chantry Sister approaching the men. She was pretty, with short red hair and light blue eyes, wearing the typical pink robes. However, unlike any of the Sisters Ayla had seen so far, she was carrying weapons. The woman aimed a charming smile at the men. "Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

The second man sent a sneering glance at the Sister. "They're more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them."

Aedan held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Now, now. What makes you think we're traitors?"

"Teyrn Loghain claims the Grey Wardens betrayed the king, or haven't you heard?" the first man shot back.

Aedan widened his eyes innocently, looking around the room. "Grey Wardens? Where?" Ayla bit her lip to keep from laughing. It was obvious that Loghain's men had been given a description of him and Alistair, yet he was almost making _her_ believe he couldn't possibly be a Warden.

"Enough talk," the man snarled, obviously not fooled as he drew his sword. "Take the Wardens into custody. Kill the Sister and anyone else that gets in your way!" All of the men drew their swords at his command.

"Right! Let's make this quick!" Aedan drew his sword as well, and Ayla and Alistair followed suit.

People in the tavern began screaming and running for cover, ducking out of the way as the battle joined, or fleeing out the door behind them. They followed their usual established pattern of Alistair and Aedan attracting the most attention, while Ayla used her speed to sneak around and finish off the men. Striker, as usual, took a man down by the throat, while Morrigan was restricting herself to shooting small bolts out of her staff at the men, apparently not wanting to use elemental magic indoors.

What surprised Ayla the most of all was that the Sister had joined in the fight – and she was _good_. She fought in a style similar to Ayla's, though she was using two small daggers rather than the longer swords that Ayla favoured, and seemed to be slightly hampered by her long robes. At any rate, with the skills of their party and the additional help of the Sister, it wasn't long before all of Loghain's men were lying dead, except for the one who'd ordered the attack. He was disarmed, with the point of Aedan's greatsword at this throat, begging for his life.

Had it been a bandit, Ayla would've finished him off herself. But this man was just a soldier, blindly following orders. So she sheathed her swords and leaned against the bar to watch what Aedan would do.

The Sister beamed as she sheathed her weapons as well. "Good, he's learned his lesson and we can all stop fighting now."

Aedan shot an incredulous glance at her, but said nothing in reply. He looked back at the blubbering soldier, his jaw working. Ayla could clearly see the fury sparking in his grey eyes, but then he sighed and lowered the sword point. "Take a message to Loghain – he'll pay for what he's done. We're coming for him."

The soldier nodded in relief and dashed for the tavern door, slamming it behind him in his haste. Everyone else sheathed their weapons as well. Ayla noticed Alistair's eyes searching until he found her, then the relieved smile he gave to see her unharmed, which she returned. She crossed the distance back over to their group, making her way to his side again.

The Chantry Sister had approached Aedan, smiling at him. Ayla noticed a light of interest in her eyes as she examined Aedan, which she didn't blame the woman for. Aedan _was_ good-looking, with his jet-black hair, piercing grey eyes, classically handsome features, and was nearly as tall, broud-shouldered and well-built as Alistair. For some reason, however, she personally didn't find him nearly as fascinating. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help," the woman offered in a musical accent.

Aedan raised an eyebrow at her, crossing his arms. "So I see. Where does a Sister learn to fight like that?"

The Sister shrugged. "I wasn't born in the Chantry, you know. Many of us had more - colourful lives before we joined. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay Sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."

"And is there something you wanted from us?" Aedan pressed.

"Those men said you're a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do? I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along." Leliana crossed her arms and nodded her head firmly, her decision already made. Ayla had to admire her audacity. She hadn't asked to come; she was _telling_ them she was going with them. Bold move, really.

"What?" Alistair and Morrigan blurted at the same time.

Aedan controlled his reaction better, merely regarding Leliana with a skeptical look. "Why so eager to come with us?"

Leliana shrugged and said simply, "The Maker told me to."

"Can you . . . elaborate?" Aedan asked slowly.

For the first time, the woman's confidence looked shaken. Her gaze bounced over all of the party members. "I - I know that sounds absolutely insane, but it's true! I had a dream . . . a vision!"

Really? Ayla thought. That was interesting. It wasn't unusual in Fallor for people to be gifted with visions from time to time. It was the Goddess' way of guiding people in their fates. As such, she didn't doubt Leliana's sanity, only that she was telling the truth, but from the looks on everyone else's faces, they were definitely questioning her sanity.

This was confirmed her for when Alistair said in a low enough voice only she could hear, "More crazy? I thought we were all full up."

Ayla couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out. She was relieved he was making jokes again; she'd been afraid that hearing about the Arl's illness would cause him to withdraw. "Oh, come on now, crazy isn't always that bad, is it?" she teased in a whisper. He grinned in response.

Aedan, meanwhile, held up a hand to forestall Leliana saying anything further. "Give me a moment; I'd like to confer with my companions." Leliana nodded, and he turned back to the others. They all gathered close, keeping their voices low so she wouldn't hear.

"What do you think?" Aedan looked at each of them in turn. "She seems to be an archdemon short of a Blight."

Alistair nodded. "Yes, but she seems more 'Ooh, pretty colors!' than 'muahahah, I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill kill'!"

This time, Ayla burst into outright laughter, although she tried to stifle it with her hand. "Princess Stabbity?" she choked out. "Where did you come up with _that_?"

Alistair shot her a crooked grin. "It's my specialty to deliver witty one liners."

Aedan rolled his eyes. "If we could be serious for a moment: I agree that she doesn't seem to be dangerously crazy. And we could use the help."

"She does seem to be skilled," Ayla offered. "And I think she genuinely wants to help." Her instincts were normally quite good when it came to people and betrayal, and she didn't sense any of that from Leliana.

"Could I interject again?" Leliana asked timidly. They all turned back to look at her, and Aedan gestured for her to go ahead. "Look at the people here." She spread her arms to indicate the tavern, and probably all of Lothering. "They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos, will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help." Her voice had gained in strength throughout the speech, and ended with a note of utmost confidence.

Aedan sighed, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and finally nodded. "Very well. I will not turn away help when it is offered."

Morrigan gave an exasperated sigh, apparently deciding to finally join in the conversation. "Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought."

Leliana either didn't hear or decided to ignore her, instead beaming in gratitude at Aedan. "Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down! Let me just go get my things from the Chantry, and I will rejoin you."

"We'll be here, getting something to eat," Aedan gestured over at the bar. "I don't suppose you know somewhere we can sleep for the night? It looks as though the Chantry and all the rooms here are full."

"Yes, every spare room in Lothering is full." Leliana appeared to be deep in thought, before her face brightened. "I know of a barn that was recently abandoned when the family fled! You could stay there. It doesn't have beds, but it has a roof."

"That sounds fine," Ayla said. They all had blankets, after all. Alistair had fortunately had a spare one he'd loaned her on the road. A barn would also likely have hay; it was bound to be more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. The others all nodded in agreement with her.

"Excellent!" Leliana beamed. "I will meet you back here shortly, and show you where the barn is!" She was out the door before they could question her further.

They all made their way to a table that had been vacated when people had started fleeing, and Aedan signalled a barmaid over to take their order, as more servants started to clean up the mess left behind from the battle. They all began to eat, relieved to have freshly cooked food for the first time in a few days.

True to her word, Leliana returned just as they were finishing up their meal. She was wearing a set of leather armor identical to what Ayla had on, and was carrying her own pack. In addition to the daggers she'd sported earlier, she also had a bow over her shoulder and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back. An archer, Ayla thought with approval. That was something they were lacking, and if she was any good, made the decision to bring her along that much more worth it.

They paid their tab, and then followed Leliana to the outskirts of the town, where she stopped in front of a rundown wooden barn. It was almost dark by the time they reached the barn, and the first stars were starting to appear. She pushed open the doors, and they all went inside. It was surprisingly clean inside, and as Ayla thought, there were piles of hay around the walls and in some of the stalls.

They all set down their things, and began to find places to sleep. "Don't forget, we have the bandits to take care of in the morning," Aedan said as he arranged his blanket. "After that, we'll wrap up any other business we have in Lothering and head for Redcliffe. I'd like to leave tomorrow afternoon if possible; I don't think the darkspawn are far behind us." He turned a questioning glance to Alistair.

Ayla looked over at Alistair too. He'd stopped arranging his own bedding, and had his head cocked to the side, his eyes blank, as though he were listening to something far away only he could hear. Apparently Aedan's powers hadn't developed enough for him to do whatever Alistair was doing. Finally, Alistair straightened up and looked at Aedan. "They're not far behind, no. We should have enough time to do what we need to tomorrow; but I expect that by the following night, they'll be here in Lothering."

Aedan looked grim. "We'll make it quick tomorrow, then. I'd like to put more distance than that between us and the horde. Get some sleep, we'll go after the bandits at dawn."

"I'll take first watch," Ayla offered. She could tell that Aedan had probably intended to, but he looked exhausted, and she wasn't tired yet. She was used to long days on the road.

Aedan looked surprised, but he nodded. "Thanks, I'd appreciate that. I'll take second watch then, if you don't mind waking me up."

Ayla nodded, and Alistair offered to take third watch. By tacit agreement, none of them had yet included Morrigan in the watch schedule, and it didn't seem like the time to trust Leliana with the watches yet either. The others all went to their corners to sleep, while Ayla took up a position by the door, keeping a lamp with her. She could hardly wait to fight the bandits tomorrow, and continue on this strange new journey that fate had presented her with. It was already proving to be far more interesting than she had anticipated.


	8. Lothering Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla and Alistair get to know each other a little better; the party finishes up their business in Lothering and picks up yet another new ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from Ayla's POV, and we finally get to the end of Lothering here. Next one is going to be from Alistair's POV. If anybody has a preference for POVs for certain events, please let me know and I'll try to accommodate. (IE if you want to see Brecilian Forest from Alistair's POV, or Orzammar from Ayla's POV, etc.)

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Thedas, I own Fallor._

Lothering, Part 2

While the others settled themselves down to sleep, Ayla sat by the door to the barn. She'd left it partially cracked so she could see through it to the town beyond. She took one of her swords out and laid it across her lap. She'd often found that even the small advantage afforded by having one weapon already out saved enough time and effort to be more than worth it.

Not for the first time, as she peered into the darkness beyond, she was grateful for the heightened senses her powers offered her. As with everyone in Fallor who had successfully gained an animal kin, she had certain abilities available to her even when she wasn't in her animal form. In her case, it was an increase in smell, hearing, and eyesight, which often came in handy.

As the darkness grew more complete, however, she decided to try something she hadn't put into practice yet in Ferelden. If one's control over their shape-shifting was good enough, they could change just one part of themselves as needed. She'd been fortunate enough to learn how to shift just her eyes, so she could see better in the dark. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and brought the image to mind, allowing the change to pass over just her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she was both pleased and relieved to find that it had worked; she could make out everything in the town now as clearly as if it were day.

So, that answered one question for her. She could still shift in Ferelden, though the world was not her own. However, she still didn't know if it would be a good idea to do so. Even in Fallor, and the other countries of her world, the gift of shape-shifting was looked on with suspicion by those who didn't possess it. That was in a place where it was widely known, and acknowledged; she didn't think it would be any better here. Many people also thought shifters were little better than wild animals themselves, due to their instincts and powers, and some even called them demons.

She admitted it could be difficult to control the animal inside sometimes; it was the animal's rage at losing its pack, combined with her own human grief, loss, and rage, that made her so unstable when it came to bandits. But that didn't mean that she was incapable of controlling it, or that shifters were any less human, in her mind. And she was willing to deal with the challenges of control, if it meant gaining the powers necessary to make her more of a threat on the battlefield. As far as she was concerned, it was due to the shifters that Fallor, in spite of being such a small country, had never been successfully taken over. She wondered what Alistair would think. Would he still want her, if he knew she was a shifter?

It was then that she picked up on a noise behind her. She realized, as she listened more closely, that it had been long enough since she'd started watch that everyone had fallen asleep. About an hour, maybe? But the rhythm of Alistair's breathing had changed. It had gone from slow and steady to rapid and shallow; he was also tossing and turning in his sleep. It was when she caught the whisper of "Duncan, no . . ." that she realized he was in the throes of a nightmare.

She took a long look out at the darkness, to make sure there was nothing nearby, before going to wake him up. She didn't want to leave him to suffer. Fortunately, he'd chosen a pile of hay nearest to her and the door; she should be able to wake him up without disturbing the others. She let the change slip out of her eyes as she quietly crept over to him, bringing the lamp with her in her empty hand so he'd be able to see who it was. It wouldn't do to have him open his eyes and see an animal's eyes reflected back at him, or not know who was trying to wake him up.

She crouched down next to him, and shook his shoulder. He'd left his armor on, which she recognized as a soldier's habit; never knew what might face you when you woke up, after all. His gauntlets, sword and shield were lying off to the side, however. "Alistair, wake up," she hissed.

Like any good soldier, he woke up immediately, jerking up so fast their heads almost smashed together. Luckily, she was fast enough to rear back in time. He looked around frantically for a second, hand groping automatically for his sword, before his hazel eyes met hers. "Ayla? Is something wrong?"

"No." She shook her head, keeping her voice low. "You were having a nightmare; I thought you might appreciate an interruption."

He blinked, putting a hand to his forehead as he gathered himself. "Yes, I guess I was. Thank you."

"No problem." She straightened up, taking the lamp and her sword with her again as she went back to the door. She sank down into her seated position, sword across her knees, as she scanned the darkness again, straining her hearing as well. She was surprised and pleased to hear Alistair approaching her from behind, trying to keep the clank of his armor as quiet as possible.

He sat down next to her, only a few inches away, so that heat thrummed through her body at his nearness. He smelled good, as well, she realized, like fresh pine and male. But as he turned to look at her, she noticed how haunted his eyes were, and realized now wasn't the time for that.

"I don't know if I could sleep just now," he murmured in answer to her questioning look. "Do you mind if I sit with you for a few minutes?"

"Of course not," she reassured him. She thought for a moment, before deciding it might help him to talk, if he was able to do so now. "Do you want to talk about it? About Duncan and the others, I mean?"

He looked startled, and took a deep breath, looking away. Just as she'd decided he wasn't going to answer, he finally spoke. "You don't have to do that; I know you didn't know him very long at all, and you didn't meet any of the others."

Well, he was talking; it was a start at least. She knew that even someone who liked to be alone with their grief, as she did, would eventually need to talk about it before they exploded. "That doesn't matter. It's not about me; it's about you and what you need. If you need to talk, I'm here to listen whenever you're ready. I understand that they meant a lot to you."

He took a shaky breath, still not meeting her eyes. "I should have handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that something like this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us; not with the Blight and everything. I'm sorry." He finally looked at her with this statement, his hazel eyes dark with crushing grief.

She reached for his hand, laying her own over top of it. The leather gloves she wore were fingerless, so for the first time, they were touching skin to skin. It felt like fire spread through her body from where she touched him, especially when he flipped his hand over and twined his fingers through hers. It was a little terrifying for her to realize how much her heart ached for his grief; it made her realize that he was already coming to mean more to her than a quick tumble. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that, but she was too full of curiosity and desire about him to let it stop her now.

She shook her head at him. "There's no need to apologize. You handled it much better than I did, when my father – well, when I lost my father." She hated, _hated_ that her voice still wanted to choke up whenever she spoke of her father. He snorted derisively. "It's true. I would barely speak to anyone for weeks after that, even my own brother, unless it involved our work or planning our revenge. So, you see, you're already doing much better than me, and you lost more than one person." She smiled at him reassuringly.

He gave her a tentative smile back, and she squeezed his hand. He appeared lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again. "If you say so. I'd like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."

"He had you, and the other Wardens, didn't he?" Ayla knew that often the warriors one fought side by side with could become like a second family; it was like that for her and her brother, with the Avallonne members.

"I suppose he did." This time the smile he gifted her with was a genuine one, if sad. "It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him, in the battle. I feel like I abandoned him."

"No, it doesn't sound stupid. I understand completely." _If only I'd been with Father that day, then maybe . . ._ "But he saved your life, all our lives, really, by sending us to the tower." She knew it would be small consolation, but she felt she had to remind him of it, anyway.

Alistair sighed heavily. "Yes, I know. I think he came from Highever, or so he said." He paused for a moment, looking out at the stars. "Maybe I'll go up out there sometime, see about putting up something in his honor. I don't know. What happened to your father? Not that I mean to pry, I'm just . . ."

It was Ayla's turn to sigh. She didn't really want to talk about it, but she supposed it was only fair, given that she'd pushed him to talk about his own grief. Besides, maybe he'd understand about the bandits better. "My father was Captain of the Order before he died. I think I mentioned that part of our duties are as a peacekeeping force."

He nodded, giving her silent encouragement with those marvellous eyes of his, so she continued, struggling to keep her voice even. "He went on a lone, routine patrol. As Captain, he was one of our finest warriors, obviously, even at his age, and we were at peace, so no one thought anything of it. Myself included, though I should've gone with him. But he was ambushed, by a group of bandits operating in that region. There were so many of them, that even with his skill, he was overwhelmed, and he was killed."

She took a deep, shaky breath, and he squeezed her hand as she had his earlier. "I won't go into detail, but they didn't kill him quickly. When they dumped his body in front of headquarters, as an _example_ , it was mangled almost beyond recognition. Later, my brother and I found out which group was responsible. We hunted them down ourselves, and killed them all, one by one. We didn't let _them_ go quickly either. That's why . . . I react to bandits the way I do. I know they're not the same ones. But anytime I see a group of bandits, stealing, tormenting, or killing those weaker than them, I can't control the rage I feel. I have to kill them all." She winced. Great, now he'd realize how damaged she was.

"I'm sorry." She turned her head to look at him, shocked. He was looking at her with _sympathy_ , not disgust. "I shouldn't have asked. I can't even imagine, really, what it must have felt like."

"No, it's okay," she smiled at him. "I could have refused to talk about it. I . . . wanted you to understand, about the bandits. I didn't want you to think badly of me for what I did on the highway."

He shook his head, and she was warmed by the admiration in his gaze. "I was a little startled, sure, but I couldn't really think badly of you. You've done so much to help us, just because you can. You've been so good to me – to us, and so brave. And I can't blame you for your reaction to bandits. But can I ask you for a favour, if you don't mind?"

He was so damn _sweet_ , that he floored her. She didn't think she could refuse him anything right then. "What would you ask of me?"

"Just don't be so reckless when you fight bandits, from now on. You had me worried sick when you charged in there, without even keeping an eye on your back. So just – be careful." He grinned crookedly at her.

She grinned back at him. "I knew you had my back." And it was true, she had known it. She hadn't understood her complete faith in it at the time, still didn't, but she absolutely trusted him to watch her back. Though she trusted her brother equally, she'd never met anybody else she'd trusted like this until now. It made no sense, but she wasn't going to analyze it too closely.

He shook his head, though he was still smiling. "I do have your back, believe me. But I'd still feel a lot better if you were a bit more careful. I'm the one with the heavy armor and the really big shield, remember."

"All right, all right," she laughed, holding her other hand up in defeat. He was too cute to refuse. "I promise to try to be more careful." She glanced at him, considering. She wanted to do something more for him, and the idea came to her suddenly. "Maybe I'll go with you to Highever, when you go. For Duncan, I mean."

His smile was suddenly so warm that she was sure her heart rate doubled. "I'd like that. So would he, I think." He cleared his throat. "Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little. I think I might be able to sleep now."

"Yes, you should probably try to get more sleep. You do have a watch later on." She smiled ruefully. She didn't want him to go back to sleep, though. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so comfortable talking to someone.

He got up, letting go of her hand, and it suddenly felt cold without the warmth of his. "Good night, Ayla." His voice had taken on a low, husky quality that sent shivers down her spine. Damn it, she was in trouble.

"Good night, Alistair," she replied softly, watching him as he turned and went back to his makeshift bed. She resisted all urges to join him; she was on watch, and she didn't think he was ready for that, anyway. _It's going to be a long night,_ she thought, turning her gaze back to the darkness.

* * *

"Ayla, wake up."

Ayla woke up promptly when she heard Alistair's voice the next morning. To her surprise, once Aedan had relieved her, she'd slept quite well. Though she had deliberately chosen a spot far enough away from Alistair so she wouldn't succumb to temptation in the middle of the night.

The temptation in question was crouched down next to her, having gently shaken her shoulder as she had his previously. He grinned crookedly at her as she sat up. "Good morning, my lady."

"Good morning, ser," she grinned back at him. She stretched her arms up and arched her back deliberately. She always liked to stretch upon waking anyway, but Alistair's reaction didn't disappoint. She saw him swallow out of the corner of her eye as his gaze followed the motions of her body and darkened, and a blush spread over his cheeks.

Of course, Aedan just _had_ to pick that moment to interrupt. "All right, it's time we got going," he announced as he strapped on his sword and began packing up his things.

Ayla bit back a sigh of disappointment as Alistair shot to his feet and, still blushing, went to gather his own things. She knew it wasn't a good time, but _still._ She got up and packed her own things together as well, noticing that the other women were awake and gathering their packs too.

"We'll start by heading further out of town." Aedan headed for the door to the barn, and they all followed, including Striker. "The bandits are supposed to be hitting the farmer's fields out there. Once we've dispatched them, we'll collect our reward at the Chantry, and see about getting that qunari, Sten, released. Then we'll head for Redcliffe."

Everyone nodded, and Aedan took the lead, heading further north from the barn they'd been in and out to fields that stretched out past the houses of the town. They'd made it past a rather large hill to their west, and farmer's fields to their right, when Ayla spotted figures in the distance and an arrow landed right by Aedan's feet.

"There they are," he murmured. "Leliana, Morrigan, can you give us some cover fire? The rest of us will confront the bandits head on. I'd like to leave at least one of this group alive, so we can find out if there's more of them hiding elsewhere." He gave Ayla a significant glance.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll leave you one."

The three of them, along with Striker, drew their weapons and headed towards the bandits, Alistair taking point again. He caught some arrows on his shield, while Ayla and Aedan ran in zigzag patterns to make themselves harder targets. Arrows and arcane bolts streaked past them towards the bandits.

Once they confronted the small group of about half a dozen bandits, it didn't take long before there was only one left. Ayla had done her best to control her rage and bloodlust, but had still made pretty short work of the inexperienced bunch with the help of the others. She had, however, with no little effort, managed to leave Aedan the last of them.

The bandit lay on the ground, with an arrow in his leg and Aedan's sword at his throat. "Tell me if there are more of you, and where your hideout is," Aedan prompted, his tone steely.

"Bugger off," the bandit spat back. "I ain't telling you anything."

"I suggest you tell him what he wants to know," Ayla said icily, fingering her sword hilt. "He's the only thing keeping you from a _very_ slow, painful death right now."

The bandit met her gaze, and his sneering look faded as she glared all her hatred at him. He turned back to Aedan and began to babble the location of a cave, another mile further out of town, explaining that there were twelve more in the group. Aedan nodded as the man finished, and then suddenly drove his sword through the bandit's neck.

"What?" Aedan asked as he turned, wiping off his sword. Everyone was staring at him. "I didn't say I was going to let him live after he gave me the information."

Ayla shrugged. She was fine with that. She didn't think she would have been able to let the bandit go after Aedan got what he wanted, anyway. Leliana looked shocked, though. Alistair was thoughtful, and Morrigan looked pleased again. "Let's keep moving," Aedan added, turning to head in the direction the bandit had indicated.

They found the caves easily enough, though they had to dispatch half of the group on the way. They'd already fallen into an easy rhythm of teamwork with each other, though, especially Ayla and the two Wardens. Their skills complemented each other well, and they were able to deal with the first group without incident.

The second group proved a little more troublesome; the bandit leader was with them, and he was a good deal more skilled than the others. He was a huge man, bigger than Alistair, wielding an immense greatsword. Eventually, however, with Aedan and Alistair distracting him from the front, Ayla was able to jam a sword through the gap in his underarm, and she twisted viciously. The man fell to his knees with a groan, and Aedan took his head off with a stroke of his sword.

They quickly looted the bandit's camp, taking any valuables they could find, and Aedan decided to take the leader's armor and weapon, stating they would probably fit the qunari. He and Alistair divided that load amongst themselves. They also collected one of the bandit's shields, which was marked with their group's emblem of a blood-red skull, as proof for the Chantry board. They made their way back to the Chantry after that.

After they'd spoken to the Chanter, and collected their reward, Leliana offered to intervene on their behalf with the Revered Mother. Morrigan didn't want to go in, and Ayla didn't see any point to it, so the two remained outside with Striker while the men went in with Leliana.

Ayla asked Morrigan some questions that had been bothering her in regards to mages, the Templars, and the Chantry. She felt Morrigan would probably be most accepting of her ignorance, since her mother had seemed to be aware that Ayla was of another world. Morrigan did turn out to be surprisingly patient, and answered all of Ayla's questions with an equally surprising lack of scorn.

Though her obvious hate of the Chantry colored her responses, Ayla found she couldn't blame Morrigan for that once she'd heard all of the things that were done to mages. She discovered that the reason that there were Templars was in case mages succumbed to demons, which were apparently wont to plague them. This was something that didn't happen in Ayla's world. The only danger magic power had there was in killing a mage who overused it, or if they were powerful enough and lost control, maybe others nearby. But there was no possession, which explained the difference in how mages were treated here.

It sounded to Ayla like the Chantry had gravely overcompensated for the possibility of possession, though. Mages were basically prisoners, with little to no freedoms, except for ones like Morrigan and her mother, who refused to live under Chantry control. Morrigan explained that this came with its own problems, however. They were branded apostates and, any time their existence was discovered, were hunted. If not for her mother's power, Morrigan believed they likely would've been caught and killed long ago. Ayla had just expressed her sympathy, feeling like she understand Morrigan a little better now, when the others re-emerged from the Chantry.

"She agreed to give us the key, thanks to Leliana," Aedan announced as they approached. Leliana beamed, and Morrigan snorted. "Come on, we'll sell some of the things we got from the bandits, then we'll release Sten and leave."

The others followed Aedan back over to the merchant from yesterday. Aedan sold off most of the armor and weapons they'd found on the bandits this morning, except for the leader's gear. Finally, they headed to the qunari's cage.

It was to the west of the tavern, towards the edge of town. As they approached it, Ayla looked up at the man in awe. He was at least another foot taller than Alistair, and even broader in the shoulder, with immense arms. He had darkly tanned skin, braided white hair, and purple eyes. He made for a very intimidating picture, even in plain homespun clothes.

"I have the key to open your cage," Aedan announced as they approached. The qunari was staring at them all with an unreadable expression.

"I confess, I did not think the priestess would part with it," the qunari answered at last, in an even, measured tone.

"She agreed to release you into our custody. You do still wish to fight the Blight, do you not?" Aedan folded his arms, watching the qunari for a reaction.

"Into your custody? So be it," the qunari sighed heavily. "I will follow you into battle. In doing so, I will find my atonement."

Aedan unlocked the cage, and the qunari stepped out. "You met Morrigan and Striker yesterday. These are my other companions," Aedan gestured to each of them in turn, "Alistair, my fellow Warden, Ayla, a warrior from another country who is aiding us, and Leliana, who was one of the Sisters here at the Chantry. She also decided to give us her aid in fighting the Blight. Everybody, this is Sten, one of the qunari peoples."

Sten looked at them all expressionlessly as they all offered various greetings. "May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere."

Aedan sighed, obviously unsurprised at Sten's lack of friendly reply. "Certainly. Here, we found some armor and a sword I thought might suit you."

He and Alistair knelt and opened their packs, unloading the pieces of the chainmail armor they'd found. Alistair took the greatsword off his back. Sten looked the items over before nodding. "These will do."

He strapped himself into the armor with a fair amount of ease, refusing help as the others waited for him. Finally done, he picked up the greatsword and checked its balance experimentally. Ayla noticed the grimace of unease, the first expression she'd seen on his face, as he handled the weapon. She understood the discomfort of fighting with an unfamiliar weapon. Alistair gave him some dried meat, cheese, bread and a waterskin from his pack before they moved on. Sten ate on the way as Aedan lead them to the highway to the northwest, which led out of Lothering and to Redcliffe.

The stone steps leading up to the highway were within sight when Alistair drew his sword. "Darkspawn!"

Ayla heard it just after he said it; the sound of someone screaming for help. She drew her swords as well, and they all ran for the highway, hearing the cries get louder as they drew near.

As they darted up the stone steps, Ayla spotted two dwarves huddling among a wagon and a bunch of crates to their left, as a group of about eight darkspawn raced towards them from the right. Alistair ran to intercept, catching the blow of a Hurlock on his shield, and Ayla followed.

The battle was soon joined quickly. Leliana and Morrigan stayed back, as before, sending arrows and spells into the ranks of the attacking darkspawn, while the men drew the attention of the darkspawn. Ayla snuck into the fray, weaving around and behind the darkspawn, stabbing and beheading where she could. The battle proved to be over quickly; Sten had been a great help, cutting down two darkspawn with massive swings of his sword almost immediately.

Ayla swiped her swords off on a filthy rag taken from the darkspawn and sheathed them. She noticed Alistair had searched her out with his eyes almost immediately again following the battle; it gave her a warm feeling whenever he did that, so she couldn't help smiling at him when their eyes met, and his face lit with an answering smile. She turned her attention to the dwarves who were approaching Aedan. One looked to be a fair bit older, with the required beard and long sandy hair; the other was young, with no beard, short hair, and a rather foolish grin on his face.

"Mighty timely arrival there, my friend, I'm much obliged," the older dwarf said as he stopped in front of Aedan. Ayla followed the others in gathering around behind Aedan to listen.

"You are most welcome, my dwarven friend," Aedan answered with his usual unfailing courtesy.

"The name's Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This here's my son, Sandal." He gestured to the young dwarf next to him. "Say hello, my boy."

"Hello," Sandal said in a dull tone that confirmed Ayla's suspicions that he was a bit simple in the head.

"Road's been mighty dangerous these days," Bodahn continued. "Mind if I ask what brings you out here? Perhaps we're going the same way."

"Well, if you are travelling around Ferelden, we might be," Aedan answered. "We are currently on our way to Redcliffe, to gain an audience with Arl Eamon, but we have other destinations around Ferelden after that."

Bodahn perked up visibly at this news. "There's good trade to be had at Redcliffe! Mind if my boy and I come along? We could use some protection on the road, and perhaps we could be of help to you in return."

Aedan crossed his arms thoughtfully, gazing at the dwarf. "Would you let us use your wagon to store some of our supplies? That way, we could carry a bit more than normal."

Ayla had to admit it would be nice to be able to carry more things. If they had a wagon, they might even be able to have tents and cooking supplies, which was something they'd avoided buying in Lothering because of the lack of means to carry it. They all awaited the dwarf's response.

"Why certainly!" Bodahn beamed in response. "I'm also willing to offer you a fine discount for the inconvenience of our presence! How does that sound? Good, yes?"

Aedan looked back at everyone, and they all nodded in response. "Sounds like a deal," he agreed. "Just mind yourselves; it might get a bit dangerous."

"Wonderful! Thank the kind man, my boy!" Bodahn turned to his son.

"Thank you, kind man," Sandal responded in the same dull tone.

"You're welcome," Aedan replied. "Let's get moving, then. I'd like to be well away from Lothering by nightfall."

"Of course!" Bodahn nodded, and gesturing to his son, he began gathering up crates and placing them on the wagon. Everyone moved to help, and once the wagon was loaded, they made sure the highway was clear of obstacles like darkspawn corpses before they began to move out.

Aedan took the lead, as usual, and the others arranged themselves around the wagon, to guard it as best as possible. Ayla followed, relieved that they were finally on the road again, headed towards Redcliffe. She only hoped, for Alistair's sake, that Arl Eamon was alive once they got there.

 


	9. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some bonding time in the camp on the road to Redcliffe; Alistair finally reveals his origins to Ayla and Aedan, and the group arrives at Redcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Wow, I think this is the longest one yet! Partly due to the fact that the first section is really just fluff between Ayla and Alistair, but hey, it is a romance, after all. There will be more fluff to come. I also had a specific place that I wanted to stop, and didn't really want to cut the chapter before then. I know there's a fair chunk of game dialogue from Redcliffe in here, but I do want to showcase the main plot point conversations and how they affect the characters, and what the characters are thinking at the time. Besides, this is an Alistair story, and Redcliffe is an Alistair-centric event. I will skip over all the side quest and errand type conversations though. This chapter is from Alistair's POV. 
> 
> *Lyrics are taken from the song Seven Deadly Sins by Flogging Molly. If you've ever heard it, you'll know why it's a whirling, foot stomping kind of song.

 

_Disclaimer: As always, Bioware owns Dragon Age and its dialogue and characters, and I own my character._

Confessions

They were making camp for the second night in a row after having left Lothering. Judging by the map of Ferelden they'd been able to purchase off the dwarf, Bodahn, they would reach Redcliffe early tomorrow afternoon if they left at first light again.

Which didn't really leave him with much time, Alistair mused. He knew he had to tell Aedan and Ayla the truth about who he really was before they got to Redcliffe. The problem was, he still didn't really want to. Right now, _nobody_ in their immediate group had any idea of who he really was, and it was remarkably freeing. He couldn't even remember the last time that had happened.

But, he knew there was a good chance that someone would bring it up when they got to Redcliffe. He figured that, as the leader, Aedan had a right to know important details like that before he got blindsided with them. And if he told Aedan, but not Ayla, she might be angry with him when she did find it out. So he'd decided he would pull the two of them aside at some point and tell them. None of the rest of them needed to know before it was brought up, though, as far as he was concerned.

He still had no idea how exactly he was going to go about his confession, though, which is why he hadn't so far. He admitted that he'd had the perfect opportunity to tell Ayla last night that he hadn't acted on. He simply hadn't wanted to tell her, terrified that she might see him differently. He'd been enjoying the conversation with her so much that he hadn't wanted to do anything to spoil it.

He had to admit, he was amazed at how easy it was to talk to her. When she'd first brought up the subject of him being raised by Arl Eamon last night, he'd done what he always did when people asked him personal questions: deflected it with stupid humor. This usually succeeded in exasperating people to the point where they never bothered to continue the conversation, let alone ask him the question again. Ayla, however, had not only seemed to find his attempt at humor amusing, but she'd actually played along with it.

Then, when he'd said something about strange dreams, she'd told him she had dreams of the two of them making mad love. He still wasn't sure if she'd been flirting with him or just trying to get him to blush (which he had, of course), since it seemed to be a source of great amusement for her when he blushed. At any rate, he'd been so flustered, aroused, and tongue-tied, that he'd only been able to focus on one thing: her original question.

He'd somehow succeeded in getting himself back on track and had told her all about being raised by Arl Eamon, even about his mother's amulet, which he'd never told _anyone_ before. But when they'd come to the subject of who his real father actually was, he'd glossed over it, only telling her that Arl Eamon wasn't his father, despite what Lady Isolde thought. She'd accepted it, but he was afraid she really would be angry with him when she found out that it was actually something important.

So, he had no idea where to start, or what to say. That was also not the only problem he had when it came to Ayla. Ever since their talk in Lothering, he'd been getting increasingly more obsessed with her. He'd tried to tell himself it was a bad idea, for any number of reasons, not the least of which was he didn't know how she felt, and that she was going to leave when the Blight was over. But being logical hadn't seemed to discourage his feelings in the slightest. Especially considering the very graphic and vivid dream he'd had about her last night.

As a result of that dream, he'd thought about what to do about his attraction to her all day. He'd finally decided that he was going to try to act on it. After all, if she liked him, and things went well, maybe she'd want to stay here. He couldn't think of any way to get himself to stop being attracted to her, anyway, and would it be so bad to allow himself something like this, just this once?

Having decided to pursue her, however, raised the very real problem of what to do next. He'd been raised in the Chantry, where young boys were kept very much separate from young girls, and taught in no uncertain terms that they weren't supposed to have any impure or sinful thoughts regarding them. Any boys (or girls) found doing something they shouldn't be were very strictly punished. Since he got punished enough as it was, he'd never really tried anything along those lines.

When he'd finally left the Chantry, six months ago, he'd had very little exposure to women his own age, resulting in a complete lack of experience. His Grey Warden brothers had tried to take it upon themselves to "help" by telling him various outlandish and inappropriate things, some of which sounded downright impossible to Alistair. They'd also tried to drag him to brothels to "fix" his lack of experience, but he'd flatly refused. As dumb as it might sound, he wanted his first time to be perfect, with somebody who actually wanted _him,_ and not just the money.

He'd also wanted it to be with a woman who was really special to him, and he'd decided Ayla might actually be that woman. He'd never been so singularly interested in one woman before. Most of his fantasies prior to meeting her had been formless ones, usually starring faceless women, or maybe a pretty woman he'd seen briefly in passing at some point. Since finding her in the Wilds, his fantasies had consistently starred her, and had been far more frequent than before. It seemed pretty clear to him that Ayla was a good candidate for his first time.

However, this decision did not solve his original problem: What in the Maker's name were you supposed to do when you liked a woman? As this question crossed his mind for possibly the hundredth time that day, he realized he'd finally made it back to camp with his armload of firewood. He kicked at the ground in frustration. If only he wasn't such an _idiot_ when it came to this sort of thing.

He suddenly spotted Aedan across the camp. He was at Morrigan's fire, which, like the night before, was so far away from the main fire and everybody else that it was completely out of earshot. He was amazed to see that the witch was actually _smiling._ That's it! He could ask Aedan for help. If Aedan could get the Witch of the Wilds to smile, surely he could help Alistair with Ayla!

He'd have to get Aedan away from the camp to ask him, though. He'd noticed that Ayla's hearing was unnaturally sharp, and he didn't want her to overhear the sure-to-be-awkward conversation that he would have with Aedan. He'd see about talking to him later, Alistair decided. He headed over to the main fire, which was in the middle of the circle of tents provided by Bodahn's generosity. Among many of the other things they'd done last night setting up camp had been acquiring various items from Bodahn that they'd been lacking or unable to carry before, and now their camp seemed almost _homey._

He heard the sound of lively, upbeat music as he approached, and soon spotted its source. Leliana was playing a fast-paced song on the lute that Aedan had bought from Bodahn after learning she was a travelling minstrel from Orlais prior to being a Chantry Sister. And Ayla was dancing along to the music, whirling in tight circles and stomping her feet.

She looked more beautiful than ever, Alistair thought in awe. For the first time since he'd met her, all her fiery red hair was out of its braid, tumbling to her waist and whipping around her as she spun. _How would all that hair look spread out underneath her . . ?_ _No, no, think about something else!_ Her eyes were glowing, her face was flushed, and everything about her bespoke perfect enjoyment of the moment. She was wearing a light cotton tunic and leggings designed to be worn under armor, both of which hugged her curves nicely as she spun.

He walked over to them and deposited the wood by the fire just as Leliana wound up the song. Amazingly, he found himself able to speak without much difficulty. "What was that song, Leliana? Is it Orlesian?"

Leliana stopped playing and Ayla stopped dancing, both of them smiling at him. He had to actually ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out for Ayla. "Oh no, it is actually from Ayla's country! She has been teaching it to me. It is a lovely song, yes?"

Alistair nodded, trying hard to keep his focus; he _was_ actually curious about the song, especially if it was from Ayla's country. He still hadn't asked nearly enough questions about that. "Does it have any words?"

Ayla grinned up at him as she pushed a tangle of hair out of her face. "Actually, it does. It's one of my favourite songs from back home."

"You must sing it for me, then!" Leliana exclaimed. "How am I to learn the song properly if I do not know the words?"

"Oh, well . . ." Ayla looked embarrassed for once, glancing down at her feet. "I'm not much of a singer, I'm afraid."

"Oh, but you must!" Leliana begged.

"Yeah, come on," Alistair fixed her with his very best puppy dog eyes. He'd love to hear her sing. "For me? Please?"

"Oh, very well," Ayla huffed out in exasperation, though she was smiling. "But, if I do this for you, you have to dance with me when Leliana has the words right!"

Now it was Alistair's turn to be embarrassed. "I don't know about that . . . I've never really danced before." That was another thing the Chantry didn't really bother teaching.

Ayla waved her hand as though this were a minor concern. "Don't worry about that! Dancing is easier than singing; you just have to move to the music, that's all. And I won't sing unless you agree."

Alistair threw up his hands in defeat, though he was secretly pleased at an excuse to be close to her. "All right, fine! But I won't be held responsible if I step on your feet."

She slanted an amused look at him. "Don't worry, I'm fast. Ready, Leliana?"

Leliana nodded, positioning her fingers on the lute, her blue eyes taking on a look of intense focus as Ayla began to sing.

_Sail away where no ball and chain Can keep us from the roarin' waves Together undivided but forever we'll be free So sail away aboard our rig The moon is full and so are we We're seven drunken pirates We're the seven deadly sins We're seven drunken pirates We're the seven deadly sins_

_But It's the only life we'll know_ _Blaggards to the bone_ _So don't wreck yourself_ _Take an honest grip_ _For there's more tales beyond the shore_

_Ah the years rolled by and several died_ _And left us somewhat reelin'_ _In and out came crawlin' out_ _And spewed upon the ceiling_ _So what became of rebels_ _That sang for you and me_ _Grapplin' with their demons_ _In the search for liberty_

_Sail away where no ball and chain_ _Can keep us from the roarin' waves_ _Together undivided but forever we'll be free_ _So sail away aboard our rig_ _The moon is full and so are we_ _We're seven drunken pirates_ _We're the seven deadly sins_

_Sail away where no ball and chain_ _Can keep us from the roarin' waves_ _Together undivided but forever we'll be free_ _So sail away aboard our rig_ _The moon is full and so are we_ _We're seven drunken pirates_ _We're the seven deadly sins_ _We're seven drunken pirates_ _We're the seven deadly sins_ _We're seven drunken pirates_ _We're the seven deadly sins *_

Alistair smiled as he listened to her. As he'd thought, he enjoyed her singing; her voice was as clear as a bell and full of passionate enjoyment while she sang along to Leliana's lute, even if she didn't quite hit all the notes perfectly. When she finished, he grinned teasingly at her. "Drunken pirates, huh? Are you secretly a drunken pirate and that's why you like this song?"

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. "No! I like it because it makes me want to dance to it without holding anything back. You don't get quite the same effect for the song with just the lute, though. Usually a full band of minstrels with several instruments plays it. But this is close enough. Do you have it, Leliana?"

"Almost!" Leliana's eyes gleamed. "You will have to teach me as many songs as you can remember. I have never heard anything like this one."

"Of course!" Ayla smiled brightly at her. "As often as we get the chance, I'll teach you. We'll go through it a couple more times if you're ready."

Leliana nodded, and began to play as Ayla sung through the song a few more times. Finally, Leliana announced that she was ready to do it on her own, and Ayla turned to Alistair. "Ready?" She gave him a wicked grin.

He felt his heart skip a few beats. "No," he retorted, but he took the hands she held out anyway and turned to face her. He was grateful that he'd also gone out to the stream to wash prior to collecting firewood, so he was wearing a light tunic and leggings similar to Ayla's and leather boots. If he'd been wearing his armor, he wouldn't have had any hope of keeping up with her.

She took one of his hands and put it at her waist, while hers went up to his shoulder. His other hand she linked with hers, keeping both their hands up in the air. Alistair took a shaky breath. He could feel the heat of her skin and the curve of her waist through her tunic, and the skin-on-skin contact of their hands was sending little trails of fire up his arm. _Just focus on the dancing, not on her._

Leliana started to play and sing, and Ayla tugged on his arm and shoulder as she started back into her whirling dance. He did his best to follow her, and stumbled a bit at first, but soon started to get the hang of it. As far as he could tell, she wasn't really following any particular pattern, just keeping up to the beat. By the time they got partway through the song, they were both spinning and stomping in circles around the clearing by Leliana, and Alistair was enjoying himself thoroughly, particularly when he watched Ayla's eyes sparkle up at him.

All too soon, the song was over and they stopped, their hands dropping down to their sides, although neither immediately let go of their linked hands right away. Alistair felt a sudden stab of guilt as he realized that during that song, he'd felt perfectly happy. How could he feel so good so soon after everything that had happened?

"You don't have to feel guilty all the time," Ayla whispered to him, squeezing his hand. "Nobody would expect you to, or want you to, least of all Duncan I'm sure."

Alistair looked down at her in astonishment. "How did you –"

"I saw it on your face." She tapped the side of his face lightly with her free hand. "You'd make a terrible gambler, you know. Besides, I had that feeling often enough myself to recognize it in someone else."

"Right. Well – thanks. I'll keep that in mind." He might've said more, or had the courage to do something else, but just then Aedan came over.

"All right, as much as I enjoyed listening to you play, Leliana, we should probably all retire for the night now. I'd like us to leave at dawn tomorrow, and get to Redcliffe as soon as possible." Aedan glanced at the three of them, and they all nodded in turn. "Right, I'll see you all in the morning, then."

He headed off to his own tent, as Leliana set aside her lute and picked up her bow. Last night, they'd established a more fair watch schedule to include the other three, which meant Leliana got first watch tonight. She headed for the perimeter of the camp to start a patrol, calling out a good night to them as she left.

"Maybe we should do this again sometime," Alistair suggested, looking down at Ayla, wishing fervently that he could think of something else to say.

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand lightly again before letting it go. "Absolutely. You make a good dance partner, Alistair. See you in the morning." She turned and headed to her tent.

_Right, the morning_ , Alistair thought as he went back to his own tent. He still had to think of how to talk to her and Aedan sometime tomorrow. Needless to say, he did not sleep well that night as his mind went through various confession scenarios.

* * *

It was when they were stopping for a quick lunch break at the top of a hill that Alistair decided it was finally time. They'd be at Redcliffe in another two hours or so, and in their travelling formation, it would be hard to get Aedan and Ayla alone away from the others. He still hadn't really settled on how to go about it, but there was nothing for it now.

Ayla was sitting next to him eating. He leaned over to her. "I have something I have to tell you and Aedan. Can you come with me to get him?"

She looked up at him, scanning his face. He tried to keep it as impassive as possible. She nodded. "Of course, let's go."

The two of them stood up and went over to Aedan, who was trying to talk to Sten without much success. As always, Striker was at his side. Ever since they'd left Lothering, Aedan had been going around to each of the party members whenever he got the chance, trying to talk to them, find out more about them, and make them feel welcome. Alistair personally thought he was wasting his time with Sten, who tended to answer with one word if it was at all possible. For some reason, though, Aedan persisted in trying. Oddly, it seemed that the qunari liked Striker better than any of them; Alistair was sure he'd seen Sten talking to the dog last night at camp, though he hadn't been close enough to overhear what was being said.

He interrupted Aedan as soon as he felt it was safe. "Aedan, do you have a moment? I need to talk to you and Ayla alone."

Aedan turned to him and gave him the same searching glance Ayla had before nodding. He expected they were both burning with curiosity as to what he had to say. Aedan turned briefly back to Sten. "I apologize for the interruption, Sten. I will come back later to finish this conversation with you."

"I am certain you will," Sten said heavily, sounding not at all thrilled at the possibility.

Alistair led the two of them a good ways away from the other three on the hill, Striker following, until he was satisfied that none of the others should be able to overhear. Finally, he turned to Ayla and Aedan, who were both staring at him expectantly.

He took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ "I need to tell the both of you something I - should probably have told you earlier." He was so nervous that he couldn't keep from wringing his gauntleted hands together.

"Relax, Alistair," Ayla prompted him. "Just get whatever it is off your chest, you'll feel better." Great, she was being so nice to him about this that it was making him feel even guiltier for not having told her sooner.

Aedan, however, sighed as he watched Alistair fidget and sweat. "Oh great, I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I don't know, I doubt it. I've never liked it, that's for sure." Alistair hesitated again before plunging onwards. "I told you both before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in? The reason he did that was because . . . well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my . . . half brother, I suppose." He trailed off at the end, half mumbling this part into his chest. Maybe they wouldn't hear him.

He looked up to see both of them staring at him. Well, gaping at him really. He couldn't really read any expression other than shock on both their faces. He sincerely hoped that neither of those expressions was about to change into anger. He honestly didn't know what to expect of either of them, though.

What he was _not_ expecting was for Aedan to suddenly break out with a mischievous grin. "So, you're not just a bastard but a royal bastard?"

Alistair let out a relieved laugh. _So far, so good._ "Ha! Yes I guess I am at that. I should use that line more often!"

"I'm not sure I quite understand," Ayla said slowly. "Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Alistair tried to read her expression, but it was carefully blank.

_She's probably mad. Or upset. I have to fix this._ "I would have told you both, but it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule and so they kept me secret." He watched her face, still hoping to see some sign of what she felt as he continued. "I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me . . . even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want anybody to know, as long as possible. I'm sorry." _Please, Maker, don't let her hate me for this,_ he begged silently.

She nodded after a moment, though her expression still didn't clear into anything that made Alistair think he was forgiven. "I think I understand. I'm technically a noble too, after all, but it's never really meant anything to me either."

Now it was Alistair and Aedan's turn to gape at her. "You're _technically_ a noble?" Aedan exclaimed incredulously. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged, not quite meeting either of their gazes. "Well, it's kind of a long story. Simply put, the Trichlor clan to which I belong is one of the eight oldest in Fallor, which gives the heir to the clan a seat on the King's council. That makes it one of the most important clans in the country after the Clan of Kings. But any of the heirs who enter any of the Orders are not allowed to inherit the clan's seat, since seats are also given to the Captain of each Order, and they want to make sure no one can hold two seats. So as soon as my father entered the Order, his seat passed to his younger brother. It could have gone back to my brother or me, but we both entered the Order as well. So it doesn't really mean anything to us, since we're not really viewed as nobility anymore, only soldiers."

"I suppose that makes sense," Aedan said thoughtfully. "Actually, it's quite similar to the Grey Wardens. Now that I am one, I'm not supposed to inherit Highever either. Wardens can't hold lands or titles. But even still, Alistair," he pinned Alistair with a glare, "you should have told us. Do you even realize what this means?"

Alistair looked back and forth between the two of them. Both were looking at him expectantly, Aedan with his arms crossed and a bit of glare to his expression still, Ayla still unreadable but not outright mad at least. He'd been surprised by Ayla's admission that she was a noble as well, but relieved that she seemed to understand how his status wouldn't mean anything to him. He realized all over again how little he knew about her. Once he was sure she wasn't mad at him, he was going to have a long talk with her about this country of hers. But what was Aedan getting at?

"You're right, I should have told you," Alistair admitted. "It's brought me nothing but problems, to be honest, so I was hoping to avoid it if I could. I'm not sure what you think it means, though."

"Are you kidding, Alistair?" Aedan threw his hands up in the air. "Cailan is dead! He had no children! That leaves you as the only living Theirin! How could that not have occurred to you?"

"That would make Alistair the new king, would it not?" Ayla asked, looking over at Aedan for confirmation. "If your former king never named an heir?"

Alistair was backing up, shaking his head. There was a perfectly good reason why this hadn't occurred to him, and that was because it was _impossible!_ There was no way he could be the king! "Oh no. No no no no. They make it very clear to me, over and over, that I'm a commoner and in no way in line for the throne. Not to mention, you said it yourself, Aedan! Grey Wardens can't inherit! And that's fine by me. I have no illusions about trying to be king! No, if there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood, but he is Cailan's uncle, and more importantly, very popular with the people."

Aedan sighed, shaking his head. "Alistair, it's a totally different situation if you're in line for the throne, instead of just a Teyrnship. As soon as the Landsmeet finds out who you are, they won't care that you're a Warden. All they'll see is that you're Maric's son, and they'll want you on the throne to preserve the bloodline. And I imagine Loghain must know, he was Maric's best friend after all. This means he'll see you as a threat to Anora's rule, and likely try to have you killed as soon as possible. This isn't just something we can ignore."

Alistair felt his mouth opening and closing, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He'd been terrified at the thought of just leading this party, never mind an entire country! He'd been pushed off to the side his entire life, told to follow, and now everybody would expect him to suddenly know how to lead? As if that wasn't bad enough, Loghain was going to be trying to kill him specifically! That was just great! What in the Maker's name was he supposed to do?

He met Ayla's eyes, and she must have seen the desperation in his gaze, because her face softened. "Look, Aedan, do we really need to worry about this now? Shouldn't we be more worried about defeating the darkspawn to save this country instead of who's going to run it? Once we've got our army recruited, then we can go confront this Loghain fellow. If he sends more soldiers after us in the meantime, we'll just have to kill them. He's after both of you anyway."

Aedan frowned, drumming his fingers on his arm. "I suppose you've got a point. If Ferelden falls to the Blight, nobody will be worrying about who should be king. We'll just have to take things one at a time, and get to Loghain later. Eamon may have some thoughts on the subject as well, if he's recovered. We'll finish our food and get to Redcliffe as soon as possible."

Alistair sagged with relief. He was safe for now, and he was sure Arl Eamon wouldn't want him to be king. He'd always been one of the most adamant that Alistair was not to think of himself as a Theirin, but simply a commoner. He'd set all this straight, unless . . . "Hopefully he's not as sick as we've heard." He looked at Aedan anxiously. "If they're really searching for the Sacred Ashes to heal him, I don't even want to imagine how serious of an illness it is."

"That does worry me," Aedan admitted. "From everything I've heard, the Ashes are supposed to be nothing but a myth. Looking to them for a cure sounds rather desperate. But the only way we'll find out is if we go see for ourselves."

"So, let's get a move on then." Ayla walked past them, heading back to where she and Alistair had left their packs and food. "We only have so many hours of daylight left."

The two of them nodded and followed her, the dog trotting along behind. They quickly finished eating and began to pack up their things, ignoring the curious stares from the other three. Alistair imagined that they'd probably at least been able to tell that Aedan had been yelling, though it didn't seem that anybody knew what he'd been yelling about. That much was a relief, anyway. He could only imagine the kind of ammunition this would give Morrigan. Once they were ready, Aedan signalled for them to move out, and they continued on the trek to Redcliffe.

Though Ayla walked near him on the way, as she normally did, they made the remainder of the journey in silence. Alistair had no idea what to say to her after his confession, and she didn't seem inclined to talk to him. It wasn't until they were nearly at Redcliffe, able to see the castle in the distance and the cliffs that surrounded the village, that she finally spoke. "Something's not right."

Alistair turned to look at her. "What? What do you mean?"

She sniffed the air, a grim look on her face. "It smells like a battlefield. Blood and death."

"What? Are you sure?" Alistair tried to smell something other than outdoors. He couldn't smell anything at first, but suddenly the wind picked up, and it blew the rotting stench of death right in his face. Sadly, he was as familiar with the scent as Ayla seemed to be. "Maker, you're right! The village must have been attacked! Aedan, we have to hurry!"

He hurried forward, Ayla close behind, until he'd caught up with Aedan at the head of their party. He noticed as he did so that Striker was growling, the fur on his back bristling. Aedan looked down at the dog, then back at them, but seeing the look on Alistair's face, merely nodded before hurrying along with them. Everyone else followed suit.

As they approached the village, a single man came across the bridge leading into the village to meet them. While he looked panicked, and sported a bow and arrow, he didn't appear to be injured. Everybody drew to a halt in front of the man as he stopped. "I – I thought I saw travellers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it!" the man exclaimed. "Have you come to help us?"

"What do you mean, come to help?" Aedan demanded. "We were coming to see Arl Eamon, what happened?"

"The Arl? Then . . . you don't know? Has nobody out there heard?" the man cried, panic plain in his voice.

"We've heard the Arl is sick, but that's all," Alistair replied hurriedly. "Did something happen to the village?"

"Sick? He could be dead for all we know!" the villager exclaimed. "No one's heard from the castle in days. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting . . . and dying."

Morrigan snorted. "Apparently everyone agrees that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvelous, really."

While Alistair had actually been thinking along the same lines, because it seemed like people were fighting and dying everywhere they went, he couldn't believe the witch had actually said it out loud. Didn't she realize that some things you should really keep to yourself? The villager apparently chose to ignore her however, for he merely continued speaking to Aedan. "We've no army to defend us, no Arl and no King to send us help. So many are dead, and those left are terrified they're next!"

Ayla stepped forward, holding up a hand to halt the villager. "Wait. What sort of monsters are these that are attacking? They're not darkspawn, are they?" She glanced at Alistair as she said this; he shook his head. He couldn't sense any nearby darkspawn, and the bulk of horde felt as though it was still well south of Redcliffe.

The villager shook his head. "I – I don't rightly know; I'm sorry. Nobody does. I should take you to Bann Teagan, he's all that's holding us together. He'll want to see you."

"Bann Teagan? Arl Eamon's brother? He's here?" Alistair demanded. He was relieved; even if Arl Eamon was still sick, Bann Teagan should have some idea of what to do. The Bann had always been kind to him when he was a child, and Alistair found himself looking forward to seeing at least one familiar face that was still alive.

"Yes, it's not far, if you'll come with me." Without waiting for an answer, the villager turned and began heading across the bridge.

"Come on," Aedan gestured to the others. "We have to find out what's going on here before we can do anything else."

They all followed the villager across the bridge and down the hill into Redcliffe. The further they went into the village, the more the sights and smells of recent battle became obvious. There were battered barricades set up at the bottom of the hill leading to the castle, and more set up at intervals on the way down into the village. There were very few villagers out, and those that they did see were all armed, some of them wearing shoddy armor as well. An impromptu training area had been set up in front of the Chantry, and several men were firing arrows at straw dummies, while others practiced with wooden swords. They were obviously not trained fighters, but rather villagers hoping desperately to defend themselves; their movements were sloppy, and many arrows flew past their targets or barely hit the edges.

The man in front of them led them directly into the Chantry. Once inside, they saw that this had become the base for the village; women, children, and the elderly were all packed inside, ranging along the walls. Temporary bedding, healing stations, and packs of food were everywhere. The Chantry was full of activity and the babble of loud voices and crying. As they approached the back of the Chantry, Alistair spotted the Bann.

He was wearing a shield with Redcliffe's heraldry on his back, as well as a longsword, both of fine make, but no armor that Alistair could see, merely a silk tunic and matching leggings. He bowed to an older man who walked away as the party came up, then turned to face them. The Teagan that Alistair remembered was a young, beardless man; the one that turned to face them sported a full beard, and his light brown hair was longer, with a small braid along the side. His kind brown eyes were the same as Alistair remembered, though they were full of concern now, and his face was more lined.

The Bann turned to the villager who'd brought them here. "It's . . . Tomas, yes? And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travelers."

"No, my lord," Tomas replied before any of the party could. "They just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them."

"Well done, Tomas. Greetings, friends." The Bann bowed his head to them. "My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl."

Alistair was trying to think of something that would make Teagan realize who he was, when it came to him. The last time he'd seen Teagan, just before he'd left. He'd been so furious when he'd found out that he was being sent away, that when the other stableboy insulted him, instead of ignoring him or trading insults, he'd simply knocked the other boy into the mud and they'd started pounding on each other. Teagan had been the one to find them and break it up, and he'd gotten Alistair cleaned up and had promised not to tell anyone what had happened. As far as Alistair knew, he never had.

Alistair stepped forward next to Aedan. "I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met, I was a lot younger and . . . covered in mud." He could feel the others staring at him, but no one commented.

"Covered in mud? Alistair? It is you, isn't it?" A large, genuine smile broke across Teagan's face as he met Alistair's eyes. "You're alive! This is wonderful news!"

The relief Alistair felt at having been recognized faded as he realized the reason Teagan would have thought he was dead. _Ostagar . . . and Loghain._ He frowned. "Still alive, yes, though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it."

"Indeed." The chill in Teagan's voice was evident as he spoke. "Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things."

Aedan chose this moment to step forward and offer his own bow. "Greetings, Bann Teagan. We've never met personally, but I believe you may have met my father, Teyrn Cousland. My name is Aedan, and I am a Grey Warden, like Alistair. These others are not Grey Wardens, but companions who have agreed to assist us. This is Ayla, Morrigan, Leliana, and Sten." He pointed to each of them in turn; Ayla and Leliana bowed, but Morrigan and Sten gave no indication they'd noticed the introduction. "I take it you don't believe what Loghain is saying?"

Teagan turned curious eyes to them. "You are the youngest Cousland? I thought I recognized you. It is a pleasure to meet you, and your companions, though I wish it were under better circumstances. But no, I do not believe he pulled his men in order to save them, or that Cailan risked everything in the name of glory." Teagan scoffed before continuing. "Loghain calls the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the King. I don't believe it. It is an act of a desperate man."

"I apologize for interrupting," Ayla began, coming up alongside Alistair, "but do you know what it is that is happening in this village? We had come to see the Arl, but we hear you are being attacked by some sort of monsters."

Teagan sighed. "Yes, well, I'm afraid Redcliffe is suffering from a number of problems. My brother is gravely ill. On top of that, no one has heard from anyone in the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks themselves started a few nights ago. Evil . . . things . . . surged from the castle. We were able to drive them back, but many perished during the assault."

"Just what sort of evil things are we talking about here?" Aedan demanded. "No one has said so far what they might be."

Teagan shook his head. "That's because we do not know for sure. Some call them the walking dead; decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for human flesh . . . They hit again and again each night, coming with greater numbers every time. Loghain has started a war over the throne, so no one has responded to my urgent calls for help. I have a feeling tonight's assault will be the worst one yet." The Bann hesitated, then met Alistair's eyes again. "Alistair, I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends."

For the first time in his life, Alistair wished he was in charge. He wanted so badly to tell Teagan that of course they would help, and to feel sure that everyone would back him up. But he'd given up leadership to Aedan, and so the choice wasn't his, no matter how badly he wanted it to be. He shook his head reluctantly. "It isn't just up to me. Though the Grey Wardens don't stand much chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon." He looked hopefully at Aedan as he said this. He could only hope that Aedan would make the choice he wanted him to.

Aedan nodded in response. "Of course we'll help. I could not just leave these villagers to die."

Morrigan exhaled loudly in annoyance, folding her arms. "How pointless, to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere."

"Morrigan -" Aedan began, but Ayla interrupted him as she turned to address Morrigan. "Yes, we have other things to contend with, but the Arl can help us with most of them. That's why we need to do whatever we can to help him."

The witch rolled her eyes in response, but said nothing further. Ever since they'd gone off hunting together the last two nights at camp, the two women seemed to have started developing a mutual respect for each other. Alistair had to admit that it disturbed him a little bit that Ayla seemed to be getting along with Morrigan, but as she'd been able to keep the witch from pestering him too much, he'd decided not to worry about it.

Teagan had apparently chosen to ignore that little aside, for he merely beamed at their party. "Thank you! Thank you, this . . . means more to me than you can guess." After sending Tomas back to his post, he continued briskly. "Now then, there is much to do before nightfall. I've put two men in charge of the defense outside. Murdock, the village mayor, is outside the Chantry. Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights, is just up the cliff at the windmill watching the castle. You may discuss with them the preparations for the coming battle."

Aedan nodded, giving Teagan a quick bow. "We're on our way."

"Very well. Luck be with you, my friends."

Aedan headed for the door, motioning for the others to follow. Alistair felt like he owed Aedan more than ever before, for agreeing to do this. He vowed to himself that he would find some way to pay him back. In the meantime, he was going to do everything he could to save Redcliffe and its people. He felt that he owed Bann Teagan and Arl Eamon that much, at least. He could only hope that they would get the village through the night.

 


	10. Battling the Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Ayla have a discussion about Alistair's confession, and Ayla reveals one of her own secrets to Alistair. The party does battle with the undead to save the village. Alistair's POV.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns all things Dragon Age, I own the rest._

Chapter 10: Battling the Undead

It had only taken them a couple of hours to attend to all the things that Murdock and Ser Perth had asked of them. Aedan had managed to convince the town's drunken blacksmith to repair the militia's armor in exchange for agreeing to find the man's daughter in the castle once the battle was over. He'd also talked a dwarf named Dwyn, an experienced fighter, into agreeing to help the militia along with his men, by promising that he'd put in a good word with the Arl and the mayor. Alistair couldn't help but marvel at the way Aedan seemed able to talk anybody into anything. If only he could do the same!

Following that, they'd searched the village for anything useful, and had found several barrels of oil in the abandoned general store that Morrigan had suggested setting on fire, believing that it might slow down these creatures. They'd also looted all the healing supplies, weaponry, and money they could find. Alistair would have felt bad about that, but Aedan pointed out it was necessary if they were going to be able to defend the village, both from these undead creatures and the darkspawn, and Alistair had to admit he was right; they'd be no use without supplies.

They'd next headed up the hill towards the windmill, stopping in the local tavern halfway up the hill on their way. It was still in operation, at least until the sun went down. They'd eaten their dinner, and Ayla had pointed out an elf acting suspiciously in the corner to Aedan. After Aedan had begun questioning him, the elf, whose name was Berrick, had quickly broken down and admitted that he'd been sent to watch the village, weeks before the attacks began. This only made Alistair more suspicious that Loghain had been involved in the Arl's illness somehow. The elf said he was merely supposed to report any changes, and had been ordered to do so by Arl Howe.

The mere mention of Howe's name had made Aedan furious in a way he hadn't been since this whole thing began, and he'd scared Berrick into agreeing to fight for the village tonight. He'd threatened to kill Berrick if he hadn't agreed, and Alistair hadn't thought for a second that he was bluffing. Obviously the elf hadn't thought so either, for he'd quickly agreed and headed for the training area to await the battle. While he'd been doing that, Ayla had sweet-talked the bartender, Lloyd, into giving the militia free drinks, as the men claimed they'd be able to fight better drunk.

Finally, they'd headed up to the windmill to talk to Ser Perth last of all. They'd discussed battle plans, and told him about the barrels they'd found. Ser Perth had agreed that fire might be useful in the coming fight, and had sent his men to fetch the barrels and set them up at the barricades at the bottom of the hill leading to the castle, which was directly across from the windmill. Ser Perth had also requested that they ask Mother Hannah for a blessing for his knights. He stated that he and his men were otherwise as prepared for the coming battle as they could be.

They'd headed back down the hill to the Chantry, and spoke to Mother Hannah. It turned out that Ser Perth wanted something that would mean the Maker was protecting him and his knights in a real sense, but she didn't think she could do that. However, Aedan had persuaded her to play along, and she'd provided some amulets that they could give to the knights. Leliana hadn't been happy with what she saw as deceit, but Alistair and Ayla had backed Aedan up. Both knew how important morale could be in winning a battle, and how easy it would be for one simple thing to tip the scales. They'd also reported on their progress so far to Teagan, letting him know that they were very nearly ready.

After they'd returned to Ser Perth and given him the amulets, Aedan had gone over the plans for the night. He'd decided they would start out with Ser Perth's men at the base of the hill where the oil was. The militia would stay at the barricades and bonfire in front of the Chantry, as a last line of defense for the civilians inside, along with Dwyn and Berrick. From what they'd heard so far, it sounded like the hill was where the majority of the creatures would appear. Morrigan would light the barrels as soon as the creatures were close enough, and then she and Leliana would provide long range support while the others would pick off any undead that came through the barricades. Aedan had dismissed them all after that, saying they could do as they liked until nightfall, when they would meet back at the windmill.

The party had all split up after that, and now Alistair was searching for Ayla. She'd barely spoken to him unless she had to during the last couple of hours, and then had gone off by herself as soon as Aedan dismissed them. He was worried that she'd been more upset by his revelation than she'd seemed to be at the time. If only he wasn't such a coward! He should have just told her when the opportunity presented itself!

He questioned the villagers if they could recall seeing her, and finally found someone who'd seen her head towards the lake. He made his way through the tangle of wooden houses towards Lake Calenhad, which was on the edge of Redcliffe village. He found Ayla sitting on the end of one of the docks, feet dangling over the edge, looking out across the water.

He took a deep breath to fortify himself. He didn't know how exactly he was going to fix it if she was upset or angry with him, but he knew he couldn't leave it this way. He would be far too distracted during the upcoming battle. He made his way down the dock and sat down next to her. "Here you are, I've been looking all over for you."

She didn't seem at all surprised that he was there; Alistair knew she must have heard him coming. She didn't bother to look over at him, however. "Well, I've been here. Was there something that you wanted, Alistair?"

_Ouch. Yes, she's definitely not happy with me._ Her cool tone and refusal to look him in the eye left no doubt of that. "I –" he hesitated. "Are you – upset with me? Over – what we talked about earlier?" He still couldn't bring himself to say anything about his birthright straight out.

She sighed, drawing a knee up to rest her hands and chin on. "Yes. But I'm trying not to be, because I realize it's hypocritical of me to be upset with you for not trusting me with details about yourself when I haven't told you everything, either. Telling myself that and actually doing it are two different things, though. So I didn't know what to say to you. Avoiding you – seemed easier."

Alistair felt worse than ever when he realized she'd been trying not to be upset with him, and that she'd thought he hadn't told her because he didn't trust her. "No, please don't think that! It's not that I didn't trust you." Because he actually did, he realized. He knew it was strange, because she was right; she hadn't come anywhere close to telling him everything about herself. But somehow, he didn't have any doubt in his mind about it. That's why he knew he had to fix this.

"It's . . . please let me try to explain. The thing is, I'm used to not telling anyone who didn't already know. It was always a secret. Even Duncan was the only Grey Warden who knew. And then after the battle when I should have told you . . . I don't know. It seemed like it was too late by then. How do you just tell someone that?"

She turned to look at him now, and he could see a spark of anger blazing in her eyes. "You could have told me the night I asked you, straight out, if you knew who your father was! Instead, you told me it wasn't important! That was an outright _lie_ , Alistair. I may not have told you everything about myself, but I would never have lied if you asked me a direct question."

"I – I know. I'm sorry." He felt very small just now. How did he always manage to screw things up so much? "It wasn't totally a lie, though. It's not something that's important to _me._ I didn't want to bring it up just then, anyway. I was really enjoying talking to you, and I – didn't want to spoil it. So I guess part of me liked you not knowing." He looked at her pleadingly, praying that she would understand he hadn't maliciously lied to her.

Her face softened a little, though she looked confused. "Are you saying you enjoyed not telling me? What makes you think that it would have spoiled our conversation that night?"

He stared out over the lake as he struggled to try to put his feelings about his birthright into words. "It's just - - that anyone who's ever found out has treated me different after. I was the bastard prince instead of just being Alistair. I know that must sound stupid to you, but I hate that it's shaped my entire life. I never wanted it, and I certainly don't want to be king. The very idea of it terrifies me."

"I think I understand," she said slowly. "When you have something about you that changes the way people look at you or think of you, it can be hard to deal with. If you have the opportunity to hide it, and just be like everybody else – I can see that being appealing."

He shoved a hand through his hair wearily, though he was growing more hopeful that she might forgive him. "For all the good that trying to hide it does me. My blood seems certain to haunt me no matter what I do. I guess I should be thankful that Arl Eamon is far more likely to inherit the throne. If he's all right, I hope he's all right. For what it's worth, I am truly sorry for not telling you sooner. I . . . I guess I was just hoping that you would like me for who I am, as just – Alistair. It was a dumb thing to do."

She scooted over closer to him, and rested a hand on his gauntleted one, giving him a sympathetic smile. "I understand why you wanted to hide it now. It doesn't matter to me who or what you are besides Alistair, because I do like you for you, and I've enjoyed talking to you also. I forgive you, as long as you promise to do me a favour."

Alistair nodded, beaming down at her in relief. She understood, and she didn't hate him. He could not have wished for anything more. "Of course, anything you want!"

She glanced away, and he saw a bit of a shadow pass over her features. "Just – remember that I forgave you for hiding this, and that I want to be recognized as Ayla only, just as much as you want to be just Alistair."

He nodded, even as his mind was running through _why_ she would want such a promise. What did she think would change how people felt about her? She couldn't possibly be worried by the fact that she'd revealed her nobility to them, could she? Because that certainly didn't matter to him. She must still be hiding something else. "Of course. But since we're being honest about direct questions, is it okay if I ask you one?"

"I –" she pulled her hand away, wrapping her arms around both her knees now. "I will try to answer it, if I can."

_What was that supposed to mean?_ Well, there was only one way to find out, he supposed. "What I'm curious about is how you don't know anything about Ferelden, or darkspawn, or anything that you should know. There has to be more to it than just your country being far away. I'm not that stupid; I know you have to be hiding the real reason for that from me." He looked at her, waiting for her answer, though he wasn't sure what exactly he expected it to be.

She sighed, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought this might come up sooner or later. I'm not sure that . . ." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"What, that you trust me enough to tell me?" he asked, disappointed. "That _would_ be hypocritical, you know."

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. I'm just not sure that you'd believe me, is all."

"That I wouldn't –" He was confused, he had to admit. He tilted his head, trying to puzzle it out. "Why wouldn't I believe you, if it's the truth?"

She shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "The reason why I don't know anything about Ferelden is because I'm not from this world. My country, Fallor, exists in the world of Sionac."

Alistair was stunned. Maker's breath, had he actually heard her correctly? She was from another world? As in, not from Thedas at all? Was that even possible? "There's – other worlds?" he said faintly, trying to wrap his head around it.

She nodded, studying him as if trying to discern his response to her news. "There are many worlds in our universe, each with different lands and people, different degrees of magic, different levels of contact with the World Beyond. Some, like yours, I'm guessing, are unaware of the existence of any others. In my world, however, it is common knowledge that there are many worlds besides our own. Other than that basic truth, though, we don't know much about them. That's why, when I came here, I didn't know anything about this place, other than that I was no longer in Sionac."

He was studying her in turn, trying to determine if she was really telling him the truth. He couldn't see any sign of deceit on her face, though. And really, who would even think to come up with such a lie? Not to mention, it did make a certain kind of sense, if he thought about how she had no basic knowledge of Ferelden, and no one had ever heard of the country she was from, or any of its customs. "If that's true – how did you even get here? Is it common for people from your world to travel to others?" He still couldn't believe he'd actually said "your world."

She shook her head, still warily studying him for his reaction. "Not common, no, but it has happened a few times in the past. We've also had people from other worlds come to ours, according to legend, anyway. Our world is supposed to be one of the easier ones to get to and from. The place I was at that day, Starwood Point, is known to have a crack between worlds, or a portal. It requires great magic to operate, though. It wouldn't have opened by accident."

"Great magic . . ." His mind instantly went to Flemeth. He remembered everything she'd said about Ayla not belonging and having a destiny to fulfill. That only made everything she was saying more likely. "Could Flemeth have had something to do with you coming here?"

"Flemeth?" She frowned as she considered it. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Is her magic truly that strong?"

"I don't know exactly how strong her magic is," Alistair admitted. "It's certainly stronger than anything I've ever felt before, but I don't know what her limits might be. She's said to be immortal, though."

"Immortal, huh?" Ayla said thoughtfully. "If we get the chance, I'd like to talk to her again. Anyway, does that mean you believe me?" She gave him a wry look, as if she knew it was too much to ask.

Alistair thought about it carefully. As farfetched as it sounded, and as flabbergasted as it made him, he couldn't think of any reason she would come up with such an elaborate lie. What would be the point? He had no real reason to doubt her sanity, either. She'd always been perfectly rational. "I – guess I do. It makes an odd sort of sense, as impossible as it sounds. But how do you plan to get back, if it's not just a matter of ordinary travel?"

She gave him a cheeky grin. "I told you my favour might be harder." He snorted in agreement as she continued, "Honestly, I don't know. If I was sent – or brought – here for a reason, then I might just automatically go home once it's done. Failing that, I had thought to search for a portal in your world, if there is such a thing. But if I don't have to go back, I'm not sure that I will."

"What? But why wouldn't you want to go home?" He was confused again, though he was also pleased at the thought that she might want to stay here – with him. _Leave it to me to think of something so inappropriate at a time like this_ , Alistair thought wryly.

"There's nothing really for me there." She had a wistful expression on her face now as she toyed with the ends of her leather skirt. "Other than my brother, no one would really miss me there. And Fallor's at peace. I'm a warrior without a war. That might _sound_ like a good thing, but I've trained all my life to fight, and there's nothing to fight. We patrol endlessly, only to fight a few bandits or other criminals. I feel like my life has no purpose there. Here, though? There are _so_ many people that need help with so many things. I feel like I could actually make a difference here. I guess that sounds strange."

"Not so strange." Alistair thought of how he'd felt about being a Templar. He hadn't thought that he would be of any use, or actually able to help anybody as a Templar. He'd been miserable about it until Duncan came along and offered him a way out. He already felt like six months in the Grey Wardens had been far more useful than a lifetime with the Templars would have been. "I felt the same about being a Templar. Like I would have been no use. Anyway, if you are able to stay, I certainly wouldn't object."

"Oh, you wouldn't, huh?" She gave him a sly smile.

He blushed, as usual, and couldn't meet her gaze. "I just mean - - I've been glad to have you along so far, and it'd be a lot harder without you here."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of service." Her eyes were twinkling with amusement when he looked back. "And I've enjoyed travelling with you so far, I wouldn't mind continuing." She stood up and stretched. "We should get going, though. They're looking for us."

Alistair stood up, as well, noting that it was starting to get darker. They must have been talking for longer than he'd thought. "They are? How do you know?"

She jerked her thumb in the direction Alistair had come. "Leliana's calling for us."

Brow furrowing, Alistair started back down the dock, straining to hear anything other than the lake. Halfway down the dock, he finally caught the faint sound of Leliana calling their names. How had she managed to hear that? Did all the people from her world have better hearing? He glanced over at Ayla, who had followed him along the dock. She merely shrugged in response to his questioning look. "Well, I suppose we should get going, anyway," he admitted.

The two of them headed back through the houses, and met Leliana halfway back to the Chantry. "Where have the two of you been? It's almost dark, and Aedan wants us all to be ready at the windmill!"

"Sorry," Alistair replied, giving her his best sheepish grin. She didn't need to know what they'd been discussing, not yet anyway. "We didn't realize it was so close to nightfall."

"Well, let us hurry now, then, yes?" Leliana turned and began running ahead of them. They followed her towards the windmill. Ayla flashed a grateful smile at Alistair when he looked over at her. He gave her a conspiratorial wink back.

In no time, the three of them had reached the top of the hill in the gathering dusk. The others were all there already, including Ser Perth and his knights. Aedan directed everybody to take up positions, and then they waited, watching the castle at the top of the hill for their first glimpse of the undead creatures.

It wasn't long at all after the sun had finally slipped below the horizon that a mist started rolling down from the hill from the castle, creeping along the ground. It was a sickly grey color, and Alistair felt the unmistakable tinge of magic coming with it. He couldn't locate the source, and it was unlike any magic he'd ever felt before, but he was sure it was magic all the same.

"Here they come!" Aedan called out.

Sure enough, a cloud of dust was now following the mist down the hill. They began to see the signs of shambling figures in among the dust. Though the things were moving fairly fast, their gait was horribly uneven and unnatural. "Morrigan, get ready," Aedan hissed out.

Morrigan nodded curtly, and Alistair felt the build-up of her magic until there was a ball of fire hovering around the end of her staff. She waited, her eyes on Aedan as he held his hand up, watching the figures coming down the hill. When they were so close to the barrels that Alistair could start to make out the bits of armor and weapons that they wore, Aedan brought his hand down. "Now!"

Morrigan shoved the ball of fire forward with her staff, essentially throwing it. It landed square on the barrels, busting them apart and sending a cloud of fire and smoke up in the air. In no time, a fire was blazing merrily across the bottom of the hill. Everybody waited, weapons drawn, to see what the undead would make of this barrier.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the first figure came reeling out of the fire. While it was on fire, that didn't seem to deter the thing from charging towards the ranks of warriors that waited for it. Still more creatures burst out of the flames, coming towards them. "Attack!" Aedan yelled, coming forward himself with a massive swing of his sword.

Alistair charged forward as well. An arrow pierced the creature in front of him. As always, Leliana's aim was dead on; it struck right where the heart was – or should be. But the thing didn't even halt. It was horrible to look upon; it was mostly a walking skeleton, wearing armor and brandishing a sword, but there were still bits and pieces of skin clinging to its face and arms. Its eye sockets gleamed with an unholy red light, and the stench of the dead was coming off it in waves.

It swung its sword at Alistair, and he caught it on his own sword easily, lashing out with his shield. The thing stumbled back several paces, but kept coming. He ran his sword through its middle; still it didn't stop. In desperation, Alistair yanked his sword out and lopped the thing's head off. Finally, the red light went out of the eyes and the skeleton collapsed in a heap of bones and armor. "Go for the head!" Alistair shouted to the others. "It looks like it's the only way to kill it!"

"Got it!" Aedan shouted back as another swing of his greatsword separated the heads off of two of the creatures.

"If you don't have time to go for the head, you can take out the legs! It stops them from walking!" Ayla called out, using her swords to sweep out the legs from an undead to Alistair's left. She kicked another one out of her way before beheading the one she'd dropped to the ground.

The battle continued on; more and more undead poured through the flames, which only seemed to slow them down a little bit. Leliana took to aiming for the creatures' heads, and Morrigan took to freezing them, which also seemed to halt them long enough for the others to strike at their heads. Ser Perth and his knights followed the lead of their party, and the battle soon settled into a oddly comfortable rhythm for those fighting at the top of the hill.

Alistair was surprised at how easy this was, once they'd figured out the creatures' weakness. The things were even less intelligent than darkspawn, and they certainly weren't anywhere near as fast or skilled. He found it fairly simple to deflect their blows, keep them off balance, and take out their legs or behead them as needed. The others didn't seem to be having any problems either. The only thing that seemed to pose a challenge was the sheer number of them, and with the help of Ser Perth and his knights, they seemed to be holding against the numbers well enough.

He didn't know exactly how long it had been when he took down the undead in front of him and didn't see another one behind it. He tended to lose track of time in a battle. He glanced around, and saw a few other undead falling to his friends' blades, but no more coming through the fire. "Are they all gone?" he asked Ayla, as she came over to him after dispatching the one she'd been fighting.

"It looks that way –" she began, but was interrupted as one of the militiamen came charging up from the village, shouting, "The monsters are attacking from the lake! They're attacking the barricades! We need help!"

"Damn it!" Aedan cursed; he'd come up behind Alistair just as the militiaman arrived. "That's where they've gone – they're trying to attack the villagers instead!"

"We must help them!" Leliana cried out, rushing up to them as well.

Aedan turned back to the knights that were behind them. "Knights, stay here and guard the path! Sten, Striker, you stay with them!" Sten grunted and nodded, Striker barked and moved to Sten's side. "The rest of you, follow me!"

"Come on, we need to hurry!" The militiaman cried, already turning and running back down the hill towards the village. Aedan followed him.

Alistair hurried down the hill behind Aedan, Ayla close at his side. He didn't bother putting his sword away as they raced down to the village; neither did she. Morrigan and Leliana followed close behind them, Leliana with an arrow already strung on her bow.

As they reached the village, Alistair noticed that the barricades set up in front of the Chantry, around the bonfire, were indeed being swarmed by the creatures. They were everywhere, far more than there had been at the windmill, and were continuing to stream towards the barricades from the lake. The militiamen fighting inside the barriers were bloodied and exhausted.

In no time, Alistair and the others began cutting their way through the undead surrounding the barriers. As soon as they could, Leliana and Morrigan slipped their way inside the barriers and began firing at the undead from the inside. Alistair, Aedan and Ayla continued to make their way around the outside, clearing out as many as they could. Once there was a brief lull in the stream of undead creatures, the three of them found gaps in the defense of the barricade and took up positions there.

The lull didn't last long before more undead appeared, and the battle continued to rage on. Alistair soon began to lose track of time far worse than he ever had before. There seemed to be no end to the undead; the battle narrowed to the creature in front of him. He could feel exhaustion wanting to overtake him, but he beat it back, pouring all his focus and training into continuing to swing his sword and engage the closest enemy. Sometimes he would come to the aid of nearby militiamen; mostly he just concentrated on keeping the undead away from his portion of the barrier.

He was so out of it that he didn't even realize at first that the sky had finally begun to lighten. Just as he was thinking that maybe he couldn't swing his sword anymore, he realized that the darkness outside the ring of the fire was less complete. This gave him a boost of energy, and before long, the first rays of the sun began to peek over the horizon. As they did, Alistair struck down the creature in front of him and realized that there was not another one to take its place.

As he looked around, he saw that the situation was the same all over; there were only a few undead left that were currently engaged with other warriors, and no new ones behind them. He moved to help the fighter nearest him with one of the last undead, though his limbs felt leaden. And then, suddenly, there were no more.

"Is it over?" Murdock, the village mayor, asked shakily from behind Alistair. "Is it really over?"

"It seems so," Aedan replied as he approached. He looked as exhausted as Alistair felt, but didn't appear to be badly wounded. He'd already sheathed his greatsword. "The sun is up, and I do not see anymore. It would seem we won for now."

"We won?" Murdock repeated dazedly. Then, "We won!" he shouted loudly, shoving his sword into the air. The militiamen all took up the chant, shouting and cheering.

Alistair smiled wearily as he sheathed his sword. As he had done ever since the battle at Ostagar, he began to look around for Ayla, to make sure that she was all right. When he didn't immediately notice her flame-red hair nearby, he suddenly began to wonder when he'd last seen her. Usually she remained close by him during battle, as the two of them made a good fighting combination, and he was always at least somewhat aware of her presence nearby.

But he couldn't remember the last time he saw her, and panic began to rise through him in an ever-increasing whirl. No, no she had to be all right, she had to be. "Aedan, have you seen Ayla?" he asked desperately.

Aedan shook his head. "No, not recently, but I'm sure –"

Alistair didn't wait to hear the rest; he began to push his way frantically through the crowd of cheering villagers, scanning anxiously for a glimpse of red hair. Finally, he spotted it; two glimpses of red hair, standing next to each other, on the far side of the barriers from where he'd been. He let out a relieved breath as he approached, but started to tense up again when he got close. Ayla was leaning heavily on Leliana, with one blood-stained hand pressed to her right side. The archer was supporting her with an arm around her waist, while Ayla's other arm was around Leliana's shoulders.

"Ayla!" He rushed over to her, feeling a maelstrom of emotions race through him. On the one hand, he was relieved that she was alive and on her feet; on the other hand, he was panicked and terrified that she was wounded.

"Alistair!" She smiled brightly when she saw him, though she looked as exhausted as everyone else did. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

"What about you?" he demanded as he came to a halt next to her, sick with worry. "How bad is it?"

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him. "One of those things got a lucky shot in. I'll be fine; it's nearly closed over from the health potions Leliana gave me."

"I don't believe you would have been hit at all if you hadn't been shielding that militiaman," Leliana remarked. "It was very brave of you; I only wish I'd had more potions to give you, but I'd already used some myself."

"You did what?" Alistair exclaimed, even as he was fishing in his own pouch, checking on his supplies. His fingers closed around a vial, and he pulled out his last remaining health potion. "I thought I told you to be more careful!" He handed her the vial.

She took it with her blood-stained hand, opened the vial, and drank it all in one swallow, grimacing at the taste. "Thanks, and I only said I'd try," she reminded him. "These militiamen aren't real fighters; it's my duty to protect them."

Alistair sighed; he felt the same way, but still, she shouldn't be putting herself in so much danger. What if the wound had been more serious? But he knew by the glint in her eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw that he wouldn't be able to talk any sense into her. "We should get you inside the Chantry, let you rest. Leliana, can you find Morrigan and see if she can come look at Ayla's wound? She might be able to use that basic healing spell of hers, or she might have more potions."

"Of course," Leliana nodded. Alistair came over and took Ayla's arm from her, slipping it around his shoulders, and his own arm around her waist as Leliana began to move off through the crowd. Coming to a sudden decision, he bent down and put his other arm behind her knees, scooping her up in one smooth motion.

"Alistair!" she squawked indignantly, squirming in his grasp. "What do you think you're doing? I can walk!"

"Not without help, you can't," he pointed out, ignoring her attempts to get down as he began to walk over to the Chantry doors. "And this is a lot faster and easier."

"Well – but –" she stammered, her face going bright red. He thought she looked even more beautiful with a blush across her face, even if it kind of clashed with her hair. "Aren't I – too heavy?"

He snorted. "Not in the slightest." Which was true; he hadn't expected carrying her to be a problem, but even he was surprised with how light she felt in his arms. Given how skilled she was, it had been easy for him to forget how much smaller and slighter she was than him. "Now could you just let me help you, please?"

"I – oh, all right," she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest. "But don't think you can get away with carting me around all the time."

"I wouldn't dream of it, my lady," he teased her as they approached the Chantry doors. He couldn't get over how right it felt to have her in his arms, as though she belonged. She didn't even belong in this world, she'd said so herself. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling, and now that she was here, he didn't think he'd be able to let her go.

One of the militiamen moved to open the doors for them, thanking the two of them for their help as they went by. Alistair nodded at him and made his way into the Chantry and over to where the pallets were. Other wounded warriors from the battle were being led to the pallets as well, and the remaining Sisters and townsfolk were tending to them as best they could.

One of the Sisters pointed out an empty pallet down at the end, and Alistair made his way there. He laid Ayla down carefully, kneeling down next to her. She made to sit up almost as soon as he put her down, but he gently pushed her back down. "Just rest," he said sternly. "Morrigan should be here any minute."

As if on cue, Morrigan came stalking towards them through the crowd, Leliana and Aedan on her heels. "Out of my way, you fool," she snapped at Alistair, as she made her way to Ayla's side.

Alistair scowled, but reminding himself she was here to help Ayla, he kept his mouth shut and got out of the way. The witch handed Ayla a healing potion while she downed a lyrium potion.

"Hey, Ayla," Aedan smiled down at her. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'll be fine," Ayla replied as soon as she'd finished the potion. "I've had worse wounds; nobody needs to worry about this." She stared pointedly at Alistair, who rolled his eyes in response. "I'll be ready to go when we head to the castle."

"About that," Aedan looked around at all of them before continuing, "Teagan says he has a way to sneak us into the castle. He's going to take us as soon as the village has a memorial service for the dead. The memorial won't be until noon; we're free to rest until then, and after that, we'll head for the castle and see just what's going on there. He says there's a house the rest of us can go to and get some sleep while we're waiting. As soon as you're done here, Morrigan, you should join us. The service will be in front of the Chantry; we can all meet here then."

They all nodded. "Sounds like a plan," Ayla agreed. "I'll try to get my sleep here."

"Yes, yes, fine," Morrigan said impatiently, already undoing Ayla's laces. "I'll join you as soon as I've finished with _this_ fool's wound. Why you would want to risk yourself for these villagers, I do not know."

Ayla merely ignored her, smiling up at Alistair. "I'll be fine, Alistair, I promise. Go get some rest, you're dead on your feet. The two of you, as well," she added pointedly to Aedan and Leliana.

"Yes, she's right, let's go," Aedan turned and headed for the doors. Alistair and Leliana both said quick goodbyes to Ayla before following. Alistair suddenly realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to have that discussion with Aedan about Ayla. As soon as they got to this house where they could rest, he'd talk to him. And then, he could finally go and see for himself just what had happened to Arl Eamon. He just prayed that it wouldn't be too late by the time they got there.


	11. A Castle, A Demon, and A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Aedan have a man-to-man talk; the party enters Redcliffe Castle and confronts the demon within. Alistair demonstrates his feelings to Ayla. From Alistair's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Okay, so this chapter is really long. By the time I got to the end of it and realized how long it was, it was too late :). I considered splitting it up into two, but couldn't really find a place that I wanted to cut it in half. As you can tell by the title, there was a certain scene I wanted to get in by the end of the chapter, and with all the dialogue and things that happened in Redcliffe, it took a while. And I really wanted that scene to happen before they go to the Circle, for reasons you will later see. 
> 
> Again, there is a fair amount of game dialogue in this chapter, all main quest stuff, for several reasons. One, I want to include Ayla's reactions to the events and her original dialogue. Two, I want to show what's going on in the head of whichever character we're currently following while this stuff happens. And three, I want to show what sort of Warden character that Aedan is. You may notice he's getting some original dialogue as well, expanding on the limited Warden answers.

_Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own Bioware, but I do own my character and her world._

Chapter 11: A Castle, A Demon and A Kiss

It didn't take long for them to reach the house that Teagan had offered them the use of. They had met up with Sten and Striker along the way, before Aedan brought them to the place, which was one of the bigger houses in Redcliffe. Once inside, they'd found that there were several small bedrooms that they could each use to have a few hours of rest before they would have to move on. Leliana and Sten immediately picked out rooms and shut the doors, leaving Alistair and Aedan alone in the main room of the house.

"Aedan, can I talk to you for a minute?" Alistair asked, halting Aedan before he left the main room to find a bed. He knew now probably wasn't the greatest time, given that they were both exhausted, but when would he have such a prime opportunity again where Ayla couldn't hear them?

Aedan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fine, but could you make it quick? I would really like to get a few hours' sleep before we go to the castle."

Alistair nodded. "Right, of course!" He hesitated, unsure of how exactly to phrase his question. "What exactly do you do when – well, how exactly do you tell a woman –"

"Is this about you telling Ayla you want her?" Aedan interrupted.

"I – what –" Alistair stammered, his face flushing bright red. He wouldn't exactly have put it _that_ way. He sighed in defeat. "Is it that obvious?"

Aedan grinned mischievously. "To anyone who's met the two of you for even a few seconds? Yes. To me? Completely obvious. I'm pretty sure even Striker knows." The dog barked in seeming agreement from his place at Aedan's side.

Alistair folded his arms and glared at his fellow Warden and his too-smart dog, willing his face to stop being so red. "Yes, well, anyway, I came to you for advice. I'm . . . not really sure what to do."

"Honestly, my advice would be to just kiss her. Ayla's plenty capable of stopping you if she isn't interested. Not that I think that will be a problem."

"What, you mean I should just grab her and kiss her?!" Alistair exclaimed in disbelief. When Aedan nodded in answer, Alistair felt his face go an even more interesting shade of red. "I – I couldn't do that! Without even _saying_ something to her first? Shouldn't I – I don't know!"

Aedan grinned and shook his head. "You really were raised in the Chantry, weren't you? I take it that you want to woo her, then? In that case, get her a gift. Tell her how you feel about her. It really isn't all that hard." He shrugged as if to say he couldn't believe Alistair would have trouble with this.

_A gift?_ Alistair thought. _That might actually work._ That part also sounded simple enough. But – "What do I say to her, though? What did you say to Morrigan to get her to smile at you the other night?"

Aedan thought for a second, and then started laughing. "I don't think you would be able to repeat that without lighting on fire, Alistair. Just be yourself, tell her how _you_ feel. She seems to enjoy talking to you, so you must be doing something right."

"Really?" Alistair thought about it. She had said she enjoyed talking to him, after all. And oddly enough, she really did seem to. Could he really figure out what to say to her? "But, honestly, what did you say to Morrigan? You've got me curious now."

Aedan shrugged, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You asked for it. I told her if she didn't stop tempting me the way she was, that I was going to bend her over the nearest log and –"

"Whoa! Whoa!" Alistair threw his hands up. "I take it back! I don't want to know!"

Aedan chuckled. "I didn't think so." He sobered and looked at Alistair. "Seriously, though, just give her something nice and tell her she's beautiful, if nothing else. You at least can manage that, right?"

"Well – yes, I think so," Alistair said slowly. That didn't sound so bad. Surely even he couldn't screw that up, right?

"Good." Aedan clapped him on the shoulder. "Now that that's settled, can I get some sleep?"

"Wait, I should probably tell you something about Ayla." Alistair knew it wasn't really his secret to tell, but Aedan of all people should probably know about it. So he gave Aedan a quick version of what Ayla had confessed to him the night before. He was surprised when he was done talking to see that Aedan didn't look shocked, only thoughtful.

"Hmm, so she told you about it, did she?"

"You already knew?" Alistair exclaimed, shocked. Had Ayla told Aedan before she'd confided in him? He felt hurt just thinking about it.

Aedan shook his head. "No, not for sure. Morrigan suspected she might be, given what Flemeth had told her about the possibility of different worlds and that Ayla didn't belong. And like you said, it makes a certain kind of sense, when you think about how we found her and everything she didn't know. I admit, I found it a little hard to believe at first, but Morrigan seemed very certain."

"Oh." Alistair was relieved, both because he was the only one she'd confided in, and that both Morrigan and Aedan seemed to think she was telling the truth, as well. It made the whole thing much more probable, especially if Flemeth already knew about the existence of different worlds. "But aren't you going to tell me I shouldn't get involved with her?"

"What?" Aedan scoffed. "Why would I do that? I assume you've thought the whole thing through already. And personally, I am of the opinion that if a person has a chance to enjoy themselves, they should take it. You know as well as I do that our chances of making it through this Blight alive are minimal. Why shouldn't we take whatever shots we have at happiness in the meantime?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Alistair felt better that Aedan had essentially given him permission, but it depressed him to think of how bleak their future was. He'd been trying not to think about it, and it had been pretty easy, considering all the other things that had happened and were happening. But he knew Aedan was right. The task ahead of them was daunting, and if they made it through alive, he'd consider it a miracle.

"Now I am seriously going to sleep, and you should too," Aedan prompted. "We only have a few hours before we need to head into the castle." He turned and went to find a room, Striker trailing behind him.

Alistair headed to find his own room as well, even as he thought over in his mind how he would tell Ayla how he felt. He already had the perfect gift in mind to give her. He would just have to find an opportunity sometime soon to give it to her.

* * *

They approached the Chantry a little before noon to attend the memorial service, as planned. Though Alistair could have used more sleep, considering he'd only got about five hours before washing up and coming here, he still felt fairly refreshed and ready to see just what was going on in the castle.

He felt even better when he saw Ayla come out of the Chantry, her slightly damp hair pulled back in a fresh braid. She looked completely herself again, and he felt the last traces of his worry about her disappear.

"Good morning, everyone." She smiled at the party as she approached. Morrigan was with them, having apparently come into the house to rest sometime after Alistair had fallen asleep.

The others all greeted her in return, other than Sten, who merely grunted. "Good morning, Ayla." Alistair smiled at her in return. "Are you feeling better?"

Ayla nodded. "Thanks to Morrigan's spell and the leftover potions she had, I'm completely back to normal."

"My healing would not have been necessary at all if you hadn't had some foolish notion to risk your life for some stranger," Morrigan grumbled. Alistair raised an eyebrow. If he didn't know better, he'd almost think the witch had been worried about Ayla.

Ayla opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Teagan began to address the crowd of waiting villagers from the top of the Chantry stairs. Mother Hannah was next to him. The party all stopped talking and turned to watch.

Teagan proceeded to lead the village in thanking the group for their aid last night, though Alistair noted that most of his praise went to Aedan. Regardless, it still felt good to be thanked, especially when all the villagers cheered them after Teagan's speech. Teagan wound up by saying that they would be heading into the castle next to hopefully rescue the Arl.

Mother Hannah then led the actual memorial service, lamenting the villagers who had been lost in the previous fights, as well as the two militiamen that Alistair and the others had been too late to save last night. Once the service was done, and the villagers had started to disband to begin cleaning up, Teagan gestured to their group to follow him up the hill to the windmill. Aedan led them up the hill after Teagan.

Teagan had his back turned when they reached the top, standing on the edge of the cliff by the windmill, looking across to the castle. As they approached, he turned back to them. "Odd how quiet the castle looks from here. You'd think there was nobody inside at all. But I shouldn't delay things further. I had a plan, to enter the castle after the village was secure. There is a secret passage here in the mill, accessible only to my family."

"I thought as much," Aedan replied. "Our own castle had a similar passage. Why didn't you mention this before?"

Teagan frowned, shaking his head. "I knew you would choose to enter the castle instead of staying in the village, and we needed warriors. I'm sorry if I –" he suddenly halted what he was about to say, staring past their group with wide eyes. "Maker's breath!"

They all turned to look at what had startled him so, and Alistair groaned inwardly as he saw an all-too-familiar figure running down the hill towards them, followed by a knight. A woman with strawberry blonde hair in a severe bun, wearing a tight-fitting red and pink Orlesian-style dress came to a stop directly in front of Teagan. "Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live!" she cried in her thick accent.

"Isolde! You're alive! How did you – what has happened?" Teagan sounded more at a loss for words than Alistair had ever heard him. He couldn't blame Teagan, considering that it looked as though the undead had come from the castle last night. Personally, he'd been expecting the worst case scenario when they finally did get in there, to discover that Arl Eamon and his entire family were dead. Obviously, though, at least one person wasn't.

Lady Isolde shook her head. "I do not have much time to explain! I slipped from the castle as soon as I could following the battle, and I must return quickly. And I - need you to return with me, Teagan. Alone."

Aedan snorted at the same time as Alistair did – still inwardly, because honestly, he was still a little terrified of Lady Isolde. "We will need more of an explanation than that." Aedan folded his arms, staring at Lady Isolde.

"I – what?" Lady Isolde turned to look at Aedan, a sneer passing over her features. "Who is this man, Teagan?"

Seeing Aedan's shoulders tense at the rude address, Alistair decided he should try to intervene. Sighing, he turned to Lady Isolde. "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?"

She turned her gaze on him, and her eyes widened after a moment in shock and recognition. "Alistair – of all the – why are _you_ here?" The scathing tone of her voice was exactly what he'd expected.

"What a bitch," Ayla murmured from his side, so quietly only he could hear. He looked down at her in surprise, noticing that her eyes were sparking with fury again. Was she angry for his sake? He felt warm just at the thought, and not for the first time, noticed how desirable she was when she was furious. At least, when her fury wasn't directed at him.

"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde, and furthermore, he is Aedan Cousland," Teagan stressed, staring pointedly at Lady Isolde. "I owe them – and their friends – my life."

Lady Isolde turned to Aedan, eyes wide with shock and dismay. "Ah, my Lord Cousland, pardon me! I would exchange pleasantries, but considering the circumstances –"

Alistair rolled his eyes. Of course, she would forget to include him in the apology. Feeling like a glutton for punishment, he interrupted her. "Please, Lady Isolde, we had no idea anyone was even alive within the castle! We must have some answers!"

Lady Isolde shook her head again, turning back to Teagan. "I know you need more of an explanation, but I do not know what is safe to tell! Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues. And I think – Connor is going mad. We have survived, but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death! You must help him, Teagan! You are his uncle, you could reason with him! I do not know what else to do!"

"Why do I get the feeling that you aren't telling us everything?" Aedan demanded. "I mean, Connor is only a young boy, correct? Surely you could make him go with you if you wanted."

"I – I beg your pardon!" Lady Isolde exclaimed angrily, seeming to forget who she was talking to again – and completely ignoring Aedan's perfectly good point. "That's a rather impertinent accusation!"

"Not really," Aedan said tightly. "Do not forget that you are merely an Arl's wife, while I am the son of a Teyrn. When I accuse you – especially if it's true – it is most certainly not impertinent to do so."

Alistair had never heard Aedan sound quite so much the nobleman before, and he found it a little intimidating, to be honest. Obviously Lady Isolde did too, because her anger quickly crumpled and her eyes began to fill with tears. "An evil I cannot fathom holds my husband and son hostage! I came for help! What more do you want from me?"

Before Aedan could respond – and Alistair could tell he wasn't impressed by Lady Isolde's waterworks – Teagan interrupted. "But – I do not understand what you mean by this 'evil'. Did it create the walking corpses? What is it?"

"Something the mage unleashed," Lady Isolde replied slowly, as though trying to control her tears. "So far it allows Eamon, Connor and myself to live. The others – were not so fortunate. It's killed so many, and turned their bodies into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village! It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you, Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help."

"Enough questions," Aedan snapped, obviously exasperated with Lady Isolde's theatrics and lack of useful explanations. "We need to decide what to do."

Teagan nodded, obviously having come to a decision himself. "The King is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde."

"Oh, thank the Maker!" Isolde cried, clasping her hands together. "Bless you, Teagan! Bless you!"

"This is a mistake," Aedan sighed in exasperation. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I cannot let Isolde return alone," Teagan replied, and Alistair could see by the determination in his eyes that unfortunately, they wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. "Perhaps I can help Connor or Eamon. Perhaps this really is a trap, but this is my family. I must try. I have no illusions about dealing with this evil alone. All of you, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable. Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We must confer in private before I return to the castle with you."

"Please do not take too long. I will be by the bridge." Isolde turned and headed back the way she'd come, the knight following in her wake.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Teagan turned to Aedan. "Here's what I propose: I go in with Isolde, and you enter the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door. Perhaps I will – distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed. What do you say?"

Aedan nodded slowly. "It does not seem like we have much of a choice, and it seems as though this is our best chance."

"Good. I would prefer to go inside with you, but I agree I have no choice in the matter. Ser Perth and his men can watch for danger at the castle entrance. If you can open the gates from within, they can move in and help you. I don't think anyone else can help you. Here is my signet ring." He handed a ring to Aedan before continuing, "It will open the lock on the door in the mill. Whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here. Isolde, me, and anyone else . . . we're expendable."

Aedan shook his head, frowning. "While I agree we need Eamon, I will do my level best to get everyone I can out of there alive." The others all nodded in agreement, Alistair especially. He didn't want to even think of leaving Teagan or anyone behind if he didn't have to.

"Thank you, my friends," Teagan smiled wearily at them all.

"So we are just going to send him with that woman?" Leliana asked incredulously. "It seems so dangerous!"

"I agree," Ayla added. "This could not more obviously be a trap even if that Isolde woman had come out and said it."

"Oh, I'm quite certain it's a trap," Aedan agreed with them. "However, I will not stop a man from going to help his family. We'll just have to sneak in and do our best to spring the trap."

Teagan nodded to him. "Thank you again, but I can delay no longer." He was already starting down the path. "Allow me to bid you all farewell . . . and good luck."

Aedan turned to them all as Teagan left. "All right, I think what Teagan mentioned would be a good idea. I'll have Ser Perth and his men wait at the front gates so we can let them in if we get the chance. Sten, I'd like to send you and Striker to wait with them. I doubt you will fit in the tunnel, and there's likely a ladder leading down into it, which will be difficult for Striker. The rest of us will enter through the tunnel."

Sten nodded. "As you wish. I will wait with these others for the opportunity to strike."

Aedan quickly took Sten and Striker with him over to where Ser Perth and his men were, and after a brief conversation with Ser Perth, left them there, returning to where Alistair and the others were waiting by the tunnel. They entered the windmill, and Aedan found the trapdoor set in the ground, using Teagan's ring to open it.

As he'd said, there was a ladder leading down into the darkness. Aedan quickly climbed down it, signalling the others to follow. Alistair waited until last, and once Morrigan had lit up the end of her staff with her magic, he closed the door behind him before climbing down.

The tunnel was barely wide enough for one person to walk through without having to turn sideways, so Morrigan took the lead with her light, followed by Aedan, Leliana, Ayla, and Alistair in the rear. He tried not to focus too much on the movement of Ayla's hips as she walked in front of him, although he caught himself looking several times.

After what seemed like forever, they finally reached a wooden door at the other end, which opened up into the castle dungeons. Morrigan put out her light, as the walls were lined with torches and they could see properly again. As they moved forward through the cells, they heard a man screaming for help, and saw a few of the undead attacking a cell at the furthest end of the dungeons from them.

The group raced forward, and between the five of them, easily finished off the three undead corpses. They all turned to look at the man inside the cell. It was obvious that he was a mage; both because he was wearing robes Alistair recognized as being from the Circle, and from the fairly weak aura of magic he was giving off. He was probably only about twenty, and had dark, shaggy hair. It appeared as though he'd been down here for a while; his face looked sunken and haggard, and his robes were torn and covered in blood. What could be seen of him was covered in bruises.

"Wait – you don't look like the Arlessa's guards!" the mage exclaimed as they approached the front of his cage. "Are you from outside the castle?"

"Are you the mage Lady Isolde mentioned?" Aedan demanded, not bothering to answer the man's question.

"You've spoken to her?" the mage asked. He looked down, his face falling. "Then you know what I did."

Aedan shook his head. "No, she didn't actually mention exactly what it is you stand accused of."

"I – I poisoned the Arl," the mage confessed. "Lady Isolde had hired me to tutor her son, but she didn't realize that I'd been hired to poison the Arl. I – I thought I was helping."

Alistair felt his mouth drop open in shock. He'd known the Arl was sick, but he'd seriously been hoping it was just a normal illness. Somebody had actually poisoned him? Had Loghain been the one to hire this mage? He felt Ayla take his hand and squeeze it, though he couldn't feel it as much as he would like because of his gauntlets. Not wanting to hurt her, he didn't squeeze her hand back, but smiled down at her gratefully. She returned his smile before turning her attention back to the mage.

"You thought you were _helping_? By poisoning the Arl and raising the dead? Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now," Aedan growled, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

"I – I know it looks suspicious," the mage exclaimed, coming forward and shaking his head. "But I'm not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle! I was already imprisoned when all that began! At first, Lady Isolde came with her men demanding that I reverse what I'd done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the Arl. That's the first I heard of the walking corpses. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe. She – had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So – they left me to rot."

Aedan relaxed his stance, though he still looked suspicious. As horrified as he was that Arl Eamon had been poisoned, Alistair had to admit that this mage didn't exactly strike him as a malicious killer – or a mage powerful enough to wreak havoc on Redcliffe. He found himself almost wanting to trust what the man said. "So if you're not trying to destroying Redcliffe, why did you poison Arl Eamon?" Aedan demanded.

"I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain," the mage answered. _I knew it!_ Alistair thought, feeling an unreasoning fury boil through his veins. Loghain seemed determined to destroy everything he held dear! He looked down at Ayla and saw the grim set to her face as she nodded back at him. "We'll make him pay for all of it," she whispered to Alistair, and somehow, he felt better, even though he knew the thought of revenge shouldn't be something to look forward to.

The mage continued, "I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. You see, I'm a maleficar: a blood mage."

"Truly?" Morrigan snorted sceptically from next to Aedan. " _You_ are a blood mage?"

Although Alistair tended to agree with Morrigan's scepticism, as the young mage was not at all how he'd pictured a blood mage would look, he still couldn't help his response. He tried his best not to have Templar prejudices against mages, but he couldn't help it when it came to blood magic. As far as he was concerned, it couldn't be used for anything but evil. "A blood mage! Well _that_ isn't good."

"I dabbled in the forbidden arts," the mage said, shame apparent on his features, "and they condemned me to death for it. I thought Loghain was giving me a chance to – redeem myself . . ."

"You were going to redeem yourself by poisoning someone?" Ayla scoffed.

Ignoring her, the mage cried out, "But he's abandoned me, hasn't he? Everything's fallen apart, and I'm responsible! I have to make it right somehow, I have to!"

Aedan frowned, crossing his arms. "There's something I don't quite understand. Why did the Arlessa hire a mage to tutor her son?"

"Connor had started to show . . . signs," the mage replied. "Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle would take him away for training."

"Connor? A mage? I can't believe it!" Alistair exclaimed. He'd never heard of any of Arl Eamon's family possessing magic before. The news would be devastating for Arl Eamon, as Connor was his only child and heir. It seemed as though everything Alistair had thought he knew was being turned upside down.

"She sought an apostate, a mage outside the Circle, to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea," the mage concluded solemnly.

"So, perhaps her son is responsible for what happened," Aedan suggested thoughtfully. "It would certainly explain why she seemed to feel she couldn't make him leave the castle."

"I thought so, too!" the mage exclaimed. "Connor has little knowledge of magic, but he may have done something to tear open the Veil. With the Veil to the Fade torn, spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create the walking corpses."

"The so-called maleficar speaks truth," Morrigan said when Aedan turned a questioning glance to her. "With the Fade torn, 'twould be a simple matter for a demon to raise the dead and attack the castle and village."

Aedan nodded, turning his attention back to the mage. "I think I understand."

"I never meant it to end like this, I swear!" the mage said earnestly. "Let me help you fix this!"

"He wishes to redeem himself, doesn't everyone deserve that chance?" Leliana looked pleadingly at Aedan, who had turned to check everyone's reactions.

"I don't know," Alistair said hesitantly. He didn't really want to outright kill the man, but he didn't think it was the best idea to set him free to do what he liked. "He is a blood mage – but this is an unusual situation."

"I think he's sincere in his desire to help," Ayla offered. "I don't sense that he's a danger."

Morrigan shrugged. "Do as you like – but I think he could possibly be useful."

"Give me a chance, please!" the mage begged.

Aedan turned back to him. "I think you'll stay in your cell for now. Once we've determined what's going on up there, we may be able to find some use for you."

"All right," the mage replied, looking saddened. "If you think that's best, I have no choice but to remain here until you decide what to do with me."

Aedan waved to the group to continue on. Past the mage's cell was the door leading into the next section of the dungeons. Ayla let go of Alistair's hand as they followed, and he sighed, missing the contact already, though he knew it obviously wasn't practical to continue on through a hostile castle like that.

This was proven true, when in the very next room, they ran into several more of the undead, which began to rise from the ground around them. There were far more then there had been in the previous room, but they were still able to dispatch them without too much difficulty. Alistair made sure that this time, he didn't lose track of Ayla during the battle. He was determined to make sure he was there to shield her next time she tried something reckless. He did not want to experience that panic ever again.

Once they'd gotten rid of all the corpses, they found the stairs leading up into the rest of the castle, which appeared deserted. They began to make their way through the hallways, checking all the rooms for possible survivors. It seemed everywhere they turned, there were more undead of varying stages of decomposition, as well as formless shades that Alistair had only ever seen in books before.

Morrigan came in handy fighting those; while the others did their best to keep the shades distracted and off her, she would freeze them with her magic so that they could be shattered. Otherwise, regular weapons didn't seem to pose any threat to them. They continued on once the shades had been dispatched, checking for any more people, or the Arlessa.

In one room, they found the daughter of the blacksmith, miraculously still alive. By this time, the way behind them was clear of any danger, so Aedan told her about the secret passage, and to run back to her father. The girl was only too happy to do so, and Alistair was relieved that they'd at least managed to rescue one person so far.

When they found the door leading from the other rooms to the main hall, it was locked, and no one could get it open. Alistair knew that if they went around to the main doors of the castle, they should still be able to get in the main hall, so he led the others through the kitchen and down to the basement storage area, knowing that there was another way up to the courtyard from there.

Finally, they emerged in the courtyard, coming out of the stone wall to the right of the main doors. To their left was the portcullis leading out of the castle, and the gate was still down. To the right was the staircase leading up to the main doors.

"All right," Aedan whispered to everybody, "let's get the gate open so we can let in Ser Perth, Sten and the others, then we'll make our way into the main hall and see what's going on."

Everybody nodded in agreement, and with weapons out, they began cautiously crossing the courtyard, making their way over to the gate. As they were nearing it, Ayla cried out, "Something's here!"

The party whirled around to see an immensely tall, hideous, black-cloaked creature with an oddly spiked helmet and glowing red eyes. It bore a shield and a wicked-looking longsword. It was surrounded by more undead.

"'Tis a Revenant," Morrigan hissed. "They are extremely powerful, and hard to damage. You must beware their –"

Before she could finish her sentence, the Revenant made a pulling motion with its hand, and the whole party was knocked off their feet and pulled along the ground towards the creature. Fortunately, everyone was able to get to their feet fairly quickly. "I'll keep it busy!" Alistair exclaimed, catching the Revenant's sword on his shield, which sent vibrations up his arm. "Somebody get the gate!"

"I'll go!" Ayla sprinted off in the direction of the gate.

Aedan helped Alistair with keeping the Revenant busy, while Morrigan and Leliana stood back and fired arrows and spells at the undead surrounding it. Aedan and Alistair had just been thrown back from the force of one of the Revenant's blows when they heard the gate creaking up.

"For Redcliffe!" Ser Perth and his knights bellowed from behind them. Striker came running past, launching himself at one of the undead. In no time, Ser Perth, Sten, the knights, and Ayla joined the fight against the Revenant and the undead.

Though it took a long time, as they couldn't seem to do much damage to the creature, even with the help of Morrigan's weakening spells, the combined force of all of them eventually took down the Revenant. With Sten's last massive blow, the Revenant reeled and fell to the ground with a thud. Everybody stopped, panting and fighting to catch their breath, drinking health potions to restore themselves from the minor wounds received. Fortunately, nobody was badly injured, and when Alistair looked for Ayla, he was pleased to find her unharmed.

"'Twould seem that there is indeed a powerful demon here," Morrigan said at last. "Only such a being could summon and command a Revenant."

"Of course there is!" Aedan grumbled. "Why wouldn't there be?"

"Shall we accompany you to the main hall?" Ser Perth hefted his sword and shield. "My men and I are eager to see our Arl again."

"Yes, please do." Aedan gestured for them to follow as he made his way up the stairs. "If there is a demon in there, I suspect we could use all the help we can get."

They all made their way up the stairs and through the doors into the main hall. As they entered, Alistair was astonished to see a very strange sight – Bann Teagan was jumping and tumbling around like a jester. Connor was standing facing the doors in front of the fireplace, clapping his hands with glee as he watched. Lady Isolde stood next to him, looking defeated, her shoulders hunched. Several guards stood behind the two, at attention, not watching Teagan at all.

"What is going on here?" Ayla whispered, sounding shocked. Alistair could only shake his head in disbelief – he had no idea.

As they approached, Teagan stopped his actions with a flourish and went to sit by Connor's side. As Aedan stopped directly in front of him, Connor spoke. His voice was a horrible duet of a young boy's and the deep tones of a demon. "So these are our visitors, the ones you told me about, Mother."

"Yes, Connor," Lady Isolde replied fearfully, not lifting her head or making eye contact.

"This is the one who defeated my soldiers?" Connor continued in his horrible voice. "The ones I sent to reclaim my village?"

"Yes."

"Now it's staring at me! What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough." Alistair could only stare in horror at the boy. Connor was – possessed? But he still looked like a young boy. From everything that he'd heard about mages turned into abominations, they were supposed to change into horrible creatures.

"This – this is just a man, Connor. Like your father . . ." Isolde said shakily, as she indicated Aedan, standing out in front of the others.

"Oh, I'm tired of hearing about him!" the demon Connor retorted angrily. "Besides, he's nothing at all like Father. Look at him! Breathing and not dying in the slightest. I could change that, mind you . . ."

Lady Isolde finally approached her son, tearfully trying to get him to look at her. "Connor, I beg you, don't hurt anyone!"

Suddenly, Connor put a hand to his forehead. The voice that came out this time was that of an ordinary young boy. "M-mother? What – what's happening? Where am I?" _Definitely not an ordinary abomination,_ Alistair thought. Not if Connor could go back to being himself. But then, what exactly was going on?

"Oh, thank the Maker!" Lady Isolde cried, kneeling down next to him. "Connor? Connor, can you hear me?"

Connor, who had put his head into his hands during her pleas, suddenly turned to her and shouted in his demonic voice, "Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me."

Lady Isolde got to her feet, looking shocked, but she turned to Aedan. "My Lord Cousland, please don't hurt my son! He's not responsible for what he does!"

Aedan scowled. He didn't have his hand on his sword hilt yet, but Alistair noticed the clenching and unclenching of his hand, as if he wished he was holding it. "It looks like he's the evil force you spoke of, and you've been protecting him this entire time?"

"Connor didn't mean to do this!" Lady Isolde cried. "It was that mage – the one who poisoned Eamon, he started all this! He summoned this demon! Connor was just trying to help his father!"

"And made a deal with the demon to do so? Foolish child," Morrigan sighed heavily, almost sympathetically, Alistair thought.

"It was a fair deal!" The demon Connor shouted, glaring fiercely at Morrigan, who was standing just a little behind and to the right of Aedan. "Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it's my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world! Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"

"Nobody tells him what to do! Nobody!" Teagan laughed in a strangely jovial voice from his seat beside Connor. The demon had to have influenced him somehow, Alistair guessed, making him into some sort of mindless jester for its amusement. At least he was still alive. Maybe they could get the old Teagan back still.

"Quiet, uncle," the demon growled, turning to Teagan. "I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn't I? Yes, I did. But let's keep things civil," it continued, turning back to Aedan. "This man will have the audience he seeks. Tell us . . . what have you come here for?"

"I . . . came here to see Arl Eamon," Aedan said warily. Alistair could tell he wasn't sure if he should anger the demon quite yet.

"So you're a concerned well-wisher! Why didn't you say so in the first place? All this sneaking around and killing is so unnecessary! But Father is so very ill. We really shouldn't disturb him. Isn't that right, Mother?" The demon demanded of Lady Isolde. Alistair could tell it was going to attack them soon, whether they directly provoked it or not.

"I – I don't think –" Lady Isolde began.

But the demon cut her off. "Of course you don't! Ever since you sent the knights away, you do nothing but deprive me of my fun. Frankly, it's getting dull. I crave excitement! And action! This man spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now he'll repay me!"

Alistair reached for his sword as soon as the demon said this, as did all the others, but was surprised to see the demon Connor suddenly run off and leave the main hall through a side door. Teagan, however, had gotten up and drawn his sword, and was advancing on Aedan. So were all the guards behind him. Lady Isolde fled behind Ser Perth and the others.

"Try not to kill anybody if you can help it, especially Teagan!" Aedan yelled. "Maybe if we knock them out, they won't be under the demon's influence anymore!"

Alistair raced forward between Aedan and Teagan, blocking the Bann's sword. "I'll take Bann Teagan!"

Aedan nodded quickly. "All right!" He raced off to engage one of the other guards, as everyone began to fight the six guards behind Teagan.

Alistair continued to block the Bann's blows, trying to bash the man with his shield or get an opening to strike him with the pommel of his sword. Teagan was more skilled than he'd thought, however, and was so far proving quite capable of holding him off. Suddenly, he noticed Ayla sneaking around behind Teagan. He did his best not to alert Teagan to her presence, trying to focus on the fight instead.

Suddenly, Teagan crumpled in front of him. Ayla had brought the pommels of both swords down on top of his head with significant force, knocking the man out. "Thanks!" Alistair said. She nodded and grinned, making him feel that now-familiar swell of post-battle lust. He did his best to shake it off, telling himself sternly that now was not the time. They both looked around the hall for other opponents, but it appeared that the others had managed to subdue all the guards, using similar tactics.

Lady Isolde raced over to Teagan's side as soon as she saw the battle was over. "Teagan! Teagan, are you all right?"

Morrigan came over and cast her simple healing spell on Teagan at Aedan's request, and the man groaned and sat up. With help, he regained his feet, looking around at everyone. "I – am better now, I think. My mind is my own again."

"Blessed Andraste! I would never have forgiven myself if you had died, not after I brought you here. What a fool I am! Please," she pleaded, turning to Aedan. "Connor's not responsible for this! There must be some way we can save him!"

"I am not about to kill a child!" Aedan snapped, sounding disgusted at the mere thought.

"Clearly, the child is an abomination. There is only one way to stop it." Morrigan said this in a surprisingly gentle and regretful tone for her, but she didn't sound as though she knew any other way.

"He is not always the demon you saw," Lady Isolde said quickly. "Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him!" This last statement was possibly the most sincere one he'd ever heard from her, Alistair realized.

"Isn't that what started this?" Teagan demanded angrily. "You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret . . . to protect him."

"If they discovered Connor had magic, then they'd take him away! I thought if he learned just enough to hide it, then . . ." Lady Isolde trailed off, looking defeated.

Aedan sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "Where is Connor now? Why did he run?"

"I think he ran upstairs, to the family quarters," Teagan replied.

"Violence . . . scares him. I know that sounds strange. He may have run up to his room, or . . ." Lady Isolde shrugged, as if not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"Where is Arl Eamon?" Aedan asked.

"Upstairs, in his room. I think the demon has been keeping him alive," Lady Isolde said reluctantly.

"So, if we destroy the demon, then . . .?" Teagan began hesitantly.

"Then my husband may perish, yes," Lady Isolde finished for him.

"What are our options?" Aedan asked heavily, turning to look at the others.

Alistair hesitated. He had never heard of any abomination like Connor either, so he had no idea of any alternative to killing the boy, much as he hated the thought. "I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child, but . . . he's an abomination. I'm not sure there's any choice."

Ayla nodded. "I'm not happy with the idea, either, but the child does seem . . . unnaturally dangerous. If none of you know of another way to stop this demon, it seems like that is the only way."

"We can't kill a young boy, demon or no demon," Leliana declared passionately. "Please don't say we're considering that!"

"Connor is my nephew, but . . . he is also possessed by a demon. Death would be . . . merciful." Teagan was looking at Lady Isolde as he said this, obviously trying to convince her.

"No!" she cried in response. "What . . . what about the mage? He could know something of this demon! If he still lives, we could speak to him!"

"He's down in the dungeon. We left him alive when we found him there," Aedan informed her.

"Then we should bring him here immediately. I – I do not know how much we can trust him, but we must find out what he knows. Teagan, could you find him?" Lady Isolde looked at Teagan hopefully with this question.

"I . . . will try," Teagan replied hesitantly, "though if he resists I will not hesitate to kill him. I'll return shortly."

Teagan left the main hall, while Alistair and the others remained there waiting for him, and true to his word, he returned within a few moments with the mage in tow.

"You are lucky to be alive, Jowan, after all you've done," Lady Isolde declared, her voice vibrating with hatred.

"I didn't summon any demon, Lady Isolde," the mage, Jowan, protested. "But I did poison the Arl . . . and that started all this. I'm . . . willing to help, if you'll let me."

Alistair felt suddenly hopeful. Maybe Jowan knew something that he and Morrigan didn't. Maybe there was some way to save Connor, after all.

"The demon in Connor needs to be destroyed," Jowan declared, turning to look at Aedan. "Killing Connor . . . is the easiest way to do that, certainly . . . But there is another way. A mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself."

"What do you mean?" Teagan demanded. "Is the demon not within Connor?"

"Not physically," Jowan explained. "The demon approached Connor in the Fade while he dreamt, and controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon."

"You can enter the Fade, then? And kill the demon without hurting my boy?" Lady Isolde cried, sounding truly hopeful for the first time.

"No, but I can enable another mage to do so," Jowan responded. "It normally requires lyrium and several mages, but I have . . . blood magic."

_What? No!_ Alistair thought. They couldn't allow him to perform a blood magic ritual, even if it would save Connor! To his relief, Aedan spoke up before he had a chance to. "Blood magic is forbidden. It's not an option."

"If there's a way, I must know it," Lady Isolde said desperately. "Please! Tell us what you mean, Jowan."

Jowan turned to Aedan to make his explanation. "Lyrium provides the power for this ritual. But I can take that power from someone's life energy. This ritual requires a lot of it, however. All of it, in fact."

"So . . . someone must die?" Teagan said slowly. "Someone must be sacrificed?"

"Yes," Jowan nodded. "And then we send another mage into the Fade. I can't enter because I'm doing the ritual. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It's . . . not much of an option."

"No, it's not," Aedan snapped. "Is there truly no other option?"

"The power has to come from somewhere," Jowan explained. "That means either lyrium or . . . blood."

"Then let it be my blood," Lady Isolde said with conviction. "I will be the sacrifice."

"What?! Isolde, are you mad?!" Teagan shouted. "Eamon would never allow this!"

"Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside him, or I give my life so my son can live. To me, the answer is clear."

Alistair found he was impressed with her answer in spite of himself. He had truly not thought Lady Isolde would ever be so selfless as to offer her life up for someone else's. He still didn't think it was a good idea, though. Saving someone with blood magic would not bring about anything good. So he offered his own opinion. "Blood magic! How can more evil be of any help here? Two wrongs don't make a right."

"But," Ayla said softly, "is it really our business to stop her if she wishes to trade her life for her son's?" Alistair stared at her incredulously. He understood her point, but still, how could she support blood magic? Maybe they didn't have it in her world, and she didn't understand how evil it could be. Yes, that must be it, he thought.

Morrigan nodded in agreement. "It does seem like a sensible choice, with a willing participant."

"Connor is blameless in this," Isolde declared. "He should not have to pay the price."

"It's – it's up to you, my friend." Teagan looked at Aedan as he said this. Alistair could see that Aedan's brow was furrowed with tension, as everybody looked to him to make the decision. "You know more about such things than I do, and it will be your companion going into the Fade. The decision is yours."

"There must be another way to enter the Fade," Aedan said at last, with a touch of desperation in his voice.

Alistair had never heard Aedan desperate before, and it rather alarmed him. But an alternative suddenly occurred to him as he thought of what Jowan had said earlier about power to fuel the ritual. "You can find lyrium and more mages at the Circle of Magi – if they would even do it."

Aedan suddenly looked hopeful, straightening up, his face clearing of tension. "The Circle is not far from here."

Alistair smiled, feeling sudden relief as he realized Aedan had made his decision. "That is an excellent point. One of the treaties is also for the Circle of Magi, after all." They'd have to go there eventually – why not right now, and get their support and save Connor all at once?

"The tower is about a day's journey across the lake. You could attempt to get the mages' help," Teagan said, looking suddenly relieved as well. "We could loan you a boat to get you there."

"But what will happen here?" Lady Isolde asked uncertainly. "Connor will not remain passive forever."

Aedan turned to Morrigan. "Morrigan, do you think you might be able to keep Connor in check? Jowan should be able to help you, as well, if he truly wishes to help as he says he does."

Morrigan nodded slowly. "I could use sleep spells to keep the boy unconscious while you are away. If this Jowan and I take turns, we should be able to keep him that way until you return."

"Excellent," Aedan smiled in relief. "Sten, I would also like you to remain here and keep an eye on them. If something happens, and Connor can no longer be controlled, you know what to do. But unless that happens, you are simply to watch. I will leave Striker with you as well – he hates boat rides."

Sten nodded. "I will guard the two mages while they watch over the demon. If need be, I will eliminate it." Lady Isolde gasped at this, but made no further comment.

"Then the rest of us will head to the tower," Aedan looked at Alistair, Ayla, and Leliana. They all nodded in agreement.

"Very well," Teagan agreed also. "Go to the tower quickly, then. The longer you are away, the greater the chances of disaster."

"Right," Aedan nodded. "Teagan, can you show Morrigan, Jowan, Sten and I to where Connor is? I'll make sure that he is under control before I leave. Alistair, can you take the other two and wait out by the front gates? I'll be out as soon as we're ready."

Alistair nodded. As they were all going to part ways, Morrigan dug in her pack and passed out a supply of more healing potions to the four who would be going to the tower. Then she followed Teagan and the others as they left the hall and went upstairs. Alistair, Ayla, and Leliana headed for the main doors back to the courtyard.

As they entered the courtyard, Leliana looked over at Alistair. "Why don't the two of you go on ahead? I'm going to gather up some more arrows. It looks like there's a practice field over by that wall. I'll join you in a few minutes."

They both nodded as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Leliana headed over to the wall. Alistair and Ayla continued forward to the gate. When they reached it, Alistair suddenly thought of the gift he wanted to give her. It was in his pack right now. It was probably not the most appropriate time, but they were alone and they had to wait for Aedan before they could leave. He decided it might as well be now, before he lost his nerve.

He reached into his pack and took out the red rose he'd picked in Lothering, which was still as perfect as the day he'd picked it. He turned Ayla towards him with a gentle hand on her arm, trying to calm his nerves. He was breathing too fast, and his hands were sweaty inside his gauntlets. "Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?"

Ayla looked at the rose with a startled face, then back up at him. She grinned suddenly. "Your new weapon of choice? Personally, I think you'd do better with the sword, but . . ."

Alistair laughed, suddenly feeling a lot less nervous. This territory he knew! "Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements. Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!" Sobering as he suddenly remembered his purpose in bringing the rose out, he continued, "Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull in comparison."

"You're – going to give me a flower?" she said slowly. "I've never had a man give me flowers before."

Alistair looked at her in disbelief. He was so indignant on her behalf that he forgot to be nervous or embarrassed. "You haven't? But surely the men from your world must have realized how beautiful you are! Surely some of them must have expressed an interest in you!"

She shrugged, seeming to be embarrassed as she didn't look him directly in the eye. "I didn't say that none of them were interested in me. Just, none of them were . . . sentimental about it." She smiled suddenly at him, her eyes lighting up. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course you are and you know it!" Alistair exclaimed. He simply would not believe that no one had ever told her she was beautiful before. "You're also ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying." He grinned at her, to let her know he wasn't serious about that last bit.

"I would never hurt you. Not much, anyway," she added with a suddenly wicked grin.

Alistair found himself flustered and blushing again, since he was pretty sure he knew what she was referring to. "I – I would never hurt you either, my lady," he managed to get out at last, proud of himself for only stumbling over the words a little bit.

Watching her smirk at him, he suddenly remembered his original purpose. "Anyway, I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since. And, I did want to . . . give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Now she was blushing, he noted with surprise, her wicked grin totally gone. "Thank you, Alistair. That's a lovely thought. I . . . I appreciate it."

He smiled. If he was making her blush this time, he must be on the right track. "I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking . . . here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experience of travelling with Grey Wardens, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy, the undead and demons. So, I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this . . . darkness."

"You – wow," she said at last, as she gently took the rose from him, smelling it before carefully tucking it in her own pack. "Do you . . . really think of me that way? I just – I don't know what to say. Thank you."

She was looking at him so intensely, with such surprise and gratitude, that he started to feel horribly nervous and awkward again. At the same time, he wanted to touch her so badly he didn't know what to do. The two thoughts combined into his mind and he blurted out, "I'm glad you like it. Now if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

A sudden wide and wicked grin spread across her face again as she closed the distance between them so that she was only standing inches away from him. His whole body tightened at her nearness. "Sounds good. Off with the armor, then."

He chuckled nervously, clenching his hands into fists to keep from touching her. "Bluff called! Damn! She saw right through me!"

"Or," she looked up at him, her blue-green eyes darkening, "if you're not going to do that, you could at least kiss me."

And just like that, he was lost. The intense urge he'd been feeling to kiss her senseless over the past few days, especially following battle, won out over everything else, and he pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers. Her arms went around his neck, one hand tangling in his hair, as she pressed herself against him. He groaned, kissing her harder as he slid one of his hands to the back of her head, keeping her in place. The other went to the small of her back, trying to press her even closer to him.

Her mouth opened beneath his and her tongue ran along his lips. Taking the hint, he opened his mouth in return, and suddenly their tongues were duelling together. She tasted amazing, he thought hazily. So heady, and sweet, and his whole body was on fire, going up in a blaze of lust. His hand drifted from her back down to her backside, squeezing of its own will, and she moaned, pressing herself more tightly against him and kissing him harder. He suddenly wished he wasn't wearing his chainmail. He couldn't feel her properly when she pressed against him like that.

It was the sudden realization that he did want to strip off all his armor, and have her right there in the courtyard, along with the fact that he could no longer breathe, that made him break off the kiss. He didn't let go of her right away, though, just stood there for a moment breathing heavily and trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

She smiled up at him, her eyes blazing with passion, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed, and Maker, but he wanted her more than ever. She suddenly took her arms from around his neck and stepped back from him, though, as he reluctantly released his hold on her.

"That – that wasn't too soon – or too much, was it?" he asked breathlessly, praying that she would say no.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "No! You should have done that days ago. Feel free to kiss me exactly like that as often as you like. Just – maybe start somewhere more private, next time."

"Good to know," he murmured, pleased beyond measure that she enjoyed it, and she wanted him to do it again. "I'll have to arrange that."

Then he suddenly realized he could hear the sound of someone walking towards them, and looking over, spotted Leliana approaching with a quiver chock full of arrows and a knowing smile. He could see Aedan a good deal further back in the distance, coming towards them. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything," Leliana said cheerfully.

Alistair was now bright red and couldn't have formed a coherent sentence to save his life. Taking pity on him, Ayla intervened. "No, not at all. We were just waiting for you and Aedan."

Leliana's smile stretched wider, and she winked at them. "Of course. Well, he's right behind me."

By the time Aedan reached them, Alistair had managed to compose himself somewhat. He was now grateful for the fact that he was wearing his armor, so that no one could see just how aroused he was. He studiously set himself to thinking about unattractive things to dampen his arousal as Aedan gestured them to follow him through the gate. The four of them then headed for the lake, so they could make their way to the tower of Magi and save Connor as soon as possible.


	12. A Circle of Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla and the others arrive at the Circle of Magi to gain help in freeing Connor, and find themselves battling demons instead. The Sloth demon traps them in illusions, and they must break free. Ayla's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really hate going through the Fade in the game, which is why I basically skip over any detailed mention of it. But I like the trapped in dreams idea, so I still wanted to do that, which is why I didn't cut the Fade altogether.

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, I own everything else._

Chapter Twelve: A Circle of Nightmares

Ayla sat on the deck of the boat, her back to the railing, watching the sun rise over the lake. It was coming up in a riot of oranges, pinks and reds that contrasted beautifully with the still-dark color of the lake. When they'd left Redcliffe yesterday, it had been approaching sunset, and everyone had elected to sleep almost right away, knowing that it would be a full day before they reached this Circle Tower.

She herself had just woken up from that much-needed sleep and left the small cramped cabin of the boat in order to relax out on the equally small deck. The boat they'd been loaned was really only big enough for the four of them and the sailor operating it. Ayla didn't mind though, she was just glad to be out on the open water again. Fallor bordered an ocean, and she'd always enjoyed going out on the ocean whenever she'd gotten the chance. It had been a long time since she had, though, and even going out on this lake was better than nothing. It was a relief to escape the stench of blood and death that had hung over Redcliffe. She felt like she hadn't breathed fresh air in a week.

It was also a relief to have some time to herself, she thought, especially after everything that had happened over the last few days. Everyone else was still asleep in the cabin, except the sailor, who sat in the stern facing out over the lake. He'd greeted her when she came out, but seemed content to leave her alone otherwise, for which she was grateful. She had a lot on her mind that she needed to think about.

The first thing that came to her mind, she was a little frightened to admit, was Alistair. She could admit she'd found him physically attractive from the start. That much was easy, simple, expected, even. Her growing fascination with him in general was none of the above. She knew that part of the reason for her fascination was the contrasts in his personality that he kept showing her.

He went from barely being able to look her in the eye when she flirted with him, to literally sweeping her off her feet when he'd picked her up after the battle in Redcliffe. She'd never had a man dare to do that to her before, and had been surprised by his sudden boldness. It also didn't help her level of attraction to discover that he was so strong. And then . . . there was that kiss. She'd been pleased when she'd finally been able to prompt him into kissing her, but she hadn't expected him to kiss her quite so hard – or grope her backside while he was at it. She'd quite enjoyed both, however.

Actually, if she was honest with herself, she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed a kiss that much. It was like her blood had turned into liquid fire. So she had sincerely meant it when she'd told him that he could kiss her as often as he liked. She could deal with fiery kisses that curled her toes. In fact, she was quite happy to do so. It was the sweet words and the flower that she wasn't sure how to deal with. The flower that she was now twirling in her hands, staring at it as though it could give her answers.

None of the men she'd been with before had ever given her a gift, or told her she was rare and wonderful. In Fallor, if you wanted to mate with someone, it was a simple matter of asking. No one was offended if somebody found them attractive enough to ask for a casual tumble, and no one was offended if they were turned down. It was a very common practice. It was only frowned upon to do so if one had a life-mate, in which case they were expected to remain faithful to their mate. If they didn't do so, they were typically shunned by everyone else.

She'd been quite happy making use of the casual, no-expectations type of mating that was common practice in Fallor. She hadn't wanted anything deeper, and didn't think she would ever want – or find – a life-mate. In fact, the very idea of caring about anyone that much had terrified her. So she'd never really been romanced before – and had no idea of how to deal with it. She'd actually blushed like a green girl fresh out of training! She still couldn't believe how much this simple flower and his words had flustered her. She'd always thought that guarding her heart would be easy – and so far it had been. But it was beginning to look like Alistair might present a bit of a challenge to her defences.

She knew it was much too late to run away now, however. Besides the fact that she would never back out on her vow to help, and had nowhere else to go anyway, she was far too curious about her attraction to him to pull away, especially now that she knew what kissing him was like. She wanted to follow it through to the end. She'd just have to make sure she was careful to keep her feelings out of it. Surely it couldn't be all that hard. She nodded firmly to herself, tucking the flower away. No matter how fascinating, sweet and attractive he might be, a man was just a man, after all. She needed to focus on what lay ahead – starting with saving the young child, Connor. Everything else could be dealt with when the time came.

* * *

It was just starting to become dark when they reached the opposite shore line. They were not allowed to sail directly to the tower, as only the ferry run by the Circle itself could land at the docks, Alistair had explained. So the boat had landed on the shore near an inn, which was situated directly across from the dock where the ferry operated. They all disembarked, thanking the sailor, who promised to wait at the inn until they came back.

The first sign of trouble came as they approached the dock, after stocking up on food and supplies inside the inn. A Templar stood at attention on the dock. "That's strange," Alistair murmured as they got closer. "They don't normally bother with having a Templar guard the ferry."

Aedan frowned, but kept going toward the dock. "We'd best find out what's going on, then."

Ayla waited with the others while Aedan approached the Templar and spoke to him. The Templar flatly refused to let them across to the Circle, and wouldn't tell them why. Even Aedan revealing that they were there on Grey Warden business didn't seem to help. Finally, Aedan persuaded the Templar that his commander would be upset that they hadn't been allowed across, and they were on their way.

The second sign of trouble came as they walked in the main doors of the tower. Templars were racing frantically back and forth in the large stone room, gathering weapons. Wounded men lay on pallets against the far wall. An older, grey-haired Templar was issuing orders as their group approached. "And I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do _not_ open the doors without my express consent, is that clear?"

"Yes ser," the other Templar saluted before heading to the barred metal doors at the upper right corner of the room, gesturing to other Templars nearby.

Ayla frowned. She'd been interested to see the Circle of Magi, knowing that it was where the mages were generally housed so they could be watched by the Templars, in order to keep them from being a danger to themselves and others. After seeing the damage that Connor had been able to wreak, she'd understood a little better why the Templars were thought necessary. But it didn't appear as though they had everything under control, after all.

"The doors are barred," Alistair said in a low voice only their group could hear. "Are they keeping people out, or in?"

"It looks to me like it's probably both," Ayla whispered back to him. The Templars that were running about didn't appear to have any desire to go deeper into the tower, but she didn't see any mages either, which meant they must still be locked inside. But what could possibly have happened? Had someone been possessed, like Connor? Surely all the mages couldn't be possessed, but if they weren't, why lock all of them up? She still didn't quite understand how mages were "managed" in this world.

Aedan sighed, shaking his head. "Something's obviously gone very wrong here, which would be just our luck." He approached the Templar that had been giving orders. "You must be the Knight Commander, Greagoir, I assume?"

The Templar turned towards them, scanning their group with a practiced and wary eye. "Who are you? I explicitly told Carroll not to bring anyone across the lake. We are dealing with a very delicate situation. You must leave, for your own safety."

Aedan gave the Commander a quick bow. "I am afraid I cannot. I am the Grey Warden Aedan, and these are my companions, Alistair, Ayla and Leliana. We require the aid of the mages to fight the darkspawn, and also have another matter we could use their assistance with."

The Commander, Greagoir, gave an exasperated sigh. "I am weary of the Grey Wardens' ceaseless need for men to fight the darkspawn, but it is their right. You'll find no allies here. The Templars can spare no men, and the mages are . . . indisposed." He began to pace restlessly. "I shall speak plainly. The tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls. The Circle is lost. The tower has fallen."

"I was afraid it was something like that. What can we do to help?" Aedan asked. Ayla couldn't help but respect him for that; it was exactly the sort of thing her father would have done, and had taught her and her brother to do as well. The more time she spent following Aedan, the more she respected his leadership.

"I have sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment."

_What is that?_ Ayla wondered, at the same time as Aedan said, "You cannot seriously be considering that, can you?"

Alistair turned to him, looking uncharacteristically sober. "The mages are probably already dead. Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what."

"This situation is dire," Greagoir stated firmly, slashing his hand through the air. "There is no alternative - everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again."

"Destroyed?" Ayla cried, shocked. "You mean you're just going to slaughter everyone that's still in there?" Even if there were some abominations in there, there had to be actual people alive still. She simply couldn't agree with killing all of them. She had no problem with killing those who were already possessed; even Connor, if there had been no alternative, she would have been okay with. But not somebody who was still themselves, still human. Surely there had to be another way. She glanced sharply at Alistair, unable to believe that he was agreeing with this; he looked upset, but he merely shook his head sadly when their eyes met.

"You cannot just kill all of them," Aedan snapped. "The mages are not defenceless; some must still live!"

"If any are still alive, the Maker himself has shielded them. No one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find . . . nothing." Greagoir did at least sound truly distressed about it, Ayla thought, but if he really was, why didn't he do something? Connor had sounded unnatural, but he'd looked just like an ordinary boy, and had fled rather than fight them. What did he mean when he said monstrous creatures, and why didn't he try to face them?

"If you will not look for survivors, then I will," Aedan declared. He turned to the rest of them. "Will you all come with me?"

"Of course," Ayla said firmly. "If there's anybody in there, I will not just leave them to their fate."

She looked at Alistair; she would lose a lot of respect for him if he backed out now. She was relieved when he nodded in agreement. "I'll go with the two of you, of course. If we're lucky, maybe it won't come to the Right of Annulment."

"Absolutely," Leliana smiled. "The Maker must have sent us here to help these poor people, so we must do everything we can, yes?"

"I assure you, an abomination is a force to be reckoned with, and you will face more than one." The Knight Commander sounded incredulous that they would even try.

"We are quite strong ourselves, I assure you, and it is the right thing to do. You will not talk us out of it." Aedan crossed his arms, staring Greagoir down.

Greagoir stood his ground, contemplating them for a moment before nodding. "If you succeed, I would owe you much, enough that I would pledge my Templars to your cause. Without word from Denerim, I must determine our course. Surely destroying darkspawn is a worthy goal."

Aedan nodded in return as Ayla breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they could make everything work out yet. "We have an agreement, then."

Greagoir held up a hand to forestall them. "A word of caution . . . once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe. I will only believe it is over if the first enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen . . . then the Circle is lost, and must be destroyed. May Andraste lend you her courage, whatever you decide."

"Then we will bring you the first enchanter," Aedan replied, before heading for the great doors that were now flanked by two Templars. Ayla and the others followed.

The Templars took down the bar for them, and their party made their way through the large metal doors into the rest of the tower. The doors were pulled shut behind them with a thud. They were left in a stone hallway, which was rather like the outer spoke of a wheel, curving away in front of them to the left, with rooms branching off to the right.

Aedan turned to face everybody. "All right, we'll make our way through the tower, checking each of the rooms for survivors. We'll also clear out any demons or abominations we find in any of the rooms. Everybody ready?"

They all nodded in response, and with Aedan in the lead, began to make their way through the first section of the tower. Judging by the bunk beds and small desks in this first area, it was where the younger mages lived. Ayla could already smell the blood and death that seemed to be everywhere in Ferelden, and wasn't surprised to find nothing but corpses, of both mages and Templars alike, in the hallway and the first few rooms. As usual, Aedan directed them to loot any poultices, potions or other supplies they found along the way.

Finally, they came to another door at the end of the hallway. As they opened it and entered, Ayla noticed several things: a glowing blue barrier blocking the open doorway across from them, a fiery being gliding across the floor towards them, and a white-haired female mage in reddish-brown robes between them and the advancing demon. As the party skidded to a halt behind her, the mage cast an ice elemental spell on the demon with her staff, killing it instantly.

Hearing them behind her, the mage turned as soon as the demon was gone, scrutinizing them all. Ayla noticed that there were a few other adult mages in the room, as well as several children. The older lady's eyes flared with recognition as she spotted Aedan. "It's you! No . . . come no further. Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand!"

Aedan spread his hands in a peaceful gesture, as Ayla and the others tensed behind him. Ayla kept her hands on her sword hilts, in case the mages suddenly attacked. "I've no wish to fight you, Wynne. What are you doing here?"

"I am a mage of the Circle. More importantly, why are you here? The Templars would not let just anyone by." The elderly mage, Wynne, continued to eye Aedan warily.

"Honestly? We came here seeking the aid of the mages. We had no idea what was going on when we decided to come," Aedan responded.

Wynne sighed wearily, relaxing a fraction. "And you were told that the Circle was in no shape to help you, I suppose. So why did the Templars let you in? Do they plan to attack the tower now?"

Aedan shook his head. "No, they are waiting for reinforcements."

Ayla relaxed her stance, noticing that Wynne seemed willing to talk so far. "They said something about a Right of Annulment, but it doesn't seem like they're ready for it yet." Ayla still couldn't believe that they were willing to just destroy everything. This Wynne and the others with her were proof that there were still mages alive and well in the tower.

Wynne began pacing back and forth with this news. "So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope. He probably assumes we are all dead. They abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are, we have survived. If they invoke the Right, however, we will not be able to stand against them."

"That is why we came," Aedan declared. "We have no time to waste; we must clear the tower of the abominations as soon as possible."

Wynne suddenly relaxed, looking hopeful for the first time since they'd come through the door. "If you are here to kill abominations, let me help you. I erected a barrier over the door leading to the rest of the tower, so nothing from inside could attack the children. You will not be able to enter the tower as long as the barrier holds, but I will dispel it if you join with me to save this Circle."

Aedan nodded. "Of course we will help you."

"That is why we're here," Ayla agreed. "We wanted to find any survivors that might still be in the tower."

Wynne smiled, obviously relieved. "Once Greagoir sees that we have made the tower safe, I trust he will tell his men to back down. He is not unreasonable."

"I believe Greagoir said he will only accept that it is safe if the first enchanter says so." Aedan turned to look at the others for confirmation; Alistair nodded to him in response. Ayla noticed a look of concentration on his features, and wondered if he'd been keeping his Templar abilities at the ready in case the mages did decide to attack.

"Then our path is laid out before us," Wynne responded firmly. "We must save Irving."

Aedan began heading towards the barrier on the far side of the room, and Ayla and the others followed. "Then we should set off immediately."

Wynne turned to the other adult mages that were waiting nearby. "Petra, Kinnon, look after the others. I will be back soon."

"Wynne . . . are you sure you are all right? You were so badly hurt earlier. Maybe I should come along," one of the mages said, concern lining her face.

"The others need your protection more," Wynne replied soothingly. "I will be all right. Stay here with them . . . keep them safe and calm."

"We will not fail," Aedan called back over his shoulder to Wynne, "but we have no more time to waste. Let us be off."

Wynne nodded in agreement, making her way towards their party. "If you are ready, let us go end this."

They all stopped in front of the barrier, allowing Wynne to go up next to Aedan. After a brief discussion between the two, and a final warning to be ready from Wynne, the mage dissolved the blue barrier with a flash of magic, and they made their way into the next portion of the tower, leaving the other mages behind them.

Just around the corner from the room where they'd met Wynne, they entered a library, lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves and books. As they entered, they were suddenly attacked by hideous creatures. Far taller than any human, they still had a somewhat human appearance, standing on two legs, but their torsos and heads were grotesquely swollen and mutated, grey masses with tattered remnants of robes hanging off them.

Alistair and Aedan immediately took point, distracting the creatures while Leliana fired arrows, Wynne cast magic, and Ayla herself snuck around behind the creatures in order to backstab or hamstring them if possible. Though the creatures were fairly difficult to fight, being so large and strong, there were fortunately only two of them, and the five of them were soon victorious.

Ayla looked over at Alistair, who was standing nearby. "I'm assuming those are the abominations everyone has been talking about?" She could now see what Greagoir had meant by monstrous creatures; those things were not like Connor at all. She had a little more sympathy for the Knight Commander now, even if she did still think he was a coward.

Alistair nodded soberly. "That is what a mage becomes, if they allow a demon to possess them. Those were some of the weaker ones, I think."

Aedan frowned, sheathing his sword. "Well, let's hope we don't run into more than a couple at a time, then. At any rate, we should keep moving."

The five of them continued making their way through the first floor. They did not find any more survivors, although there seemed to be abominations around every corner, and more of the fiery beings as well, which Alistair explained were rage demons. Though some of the battles were intense and difficult, as they did run into larger groups, they were able to make it through without any major disasters. Wynne proved to be invaluable, both for her offensive magic and her healing spells, which were much more potent than the single one that Morrigan knew.

On the second floor, they encountered a survivor almost right away: a strange mage named Owain. Ayla found his lack of emotion disturbing, until Alistair explained to her in an undertone that he was something called a Tranquil, which was essentially a mage stripped of their powers, which also seemed to strip them of emotions. This apparently made it so he wasn't in danger of possession, but Ayla couldn't help but be horrified anyway. How could anyone think this was okay? Ayla was sure the Goddess Herself would be horrified at the idea of people taking away others' emotions, yet apparently the Chantry condoned the idea here. She shook her head in disbelief, but decided to keep quiet; this wasn't her world, after all.

Aedan and Wynne spoke to Owain while the others waited. From what Ayla could overhear, a mage named Niall had taken something called a Litany, which apparently protected one from the influence of blood magic. Wynne explained that if they ran into blood mages, it was possible that any one of them could be controlled by the mages, unless they had the Litany. Ayla didn't understand this whole blood magic thing; blood magic did not exist in her world, that she knew of, but apparently it was forbidden, and if it could truly influence people's minds, she could understand why. The thought of someone else having control over her actions was frightening, to say the least. Aedan decided at last that they would find Niall and aid him in whatever he was trying to do. Owain elected to wait behind in the stockroom, as apparently it had been safe so far. They left him behind as they went in search of Niall.

They continued battling their way through the rooms, encountering more abominations, hostile blood mages, which Alistair neutralized with his Templar abilities, and even more of the walking corpses they'd seen in Redcliffe. Ayla would have been quite happy with never running across those things again; she couldn't stand the smell of them, and it didn't get any better when they were killed yet again.

It was all made worth it, however, when they came across another mage who'd survived by hiding in a closet. Ayla was pleased that they were continuing to find survivors, proving that Greagoir fellow wrong. It had been the right thing to enter the tower and check, instead of locking everyone away and abandoning them. The new survivor elected to stay where he was, as well, until everything had been resolved, and the party kept going.

Things began to get less encouraging after that encounter, however. Each room they went in seemed only to reveal more abominations, demons, and corpses, both walking and not. The first enchanter's study was empty, and the amount of dead bodies seemed to increase the further into the tower they went. More and more of them were piled on the floor, and the mess and devastation around them only seemed to get worse. Wynne expressed her fear that they would not find anyone else alive.

It was shortly after she said this that they found two more tranquil mages being attacked by a particularly strong abomination accompanied by shades and corpses. Though this was the most difficult battle they'd faced so far, they were able to save the two mages. Ayla knew it was most likely only due to Wynne's help; her healing and defensive magic were incredible, and had kept herself and the other three from succumbing to any serious injuries so far. As before, the tranquil mages decided to stay where they were, though Ayla wasn't sure why they would want to. This room was decidedly the most disgusting and disturbing so far, with fleshy sacks of blood and pus attached to the walls and the statues. But with no time to argue, they could only continue on, leaving the two behind.

The higher they went, the worse things seemed to become. On the next floor, they encountered not one, but two desire demons that were controlling Templars, and were unable to save any of the Templars, having to kill both the demons and the men alike. The worst of them, Ayla thought sadly, was the one who'd been influenced to think he was defending his wife and children. She was only too happy to make sure the demons were good and dead after that. Though the desire demons were manipulative, and possessed some magic, they weren't all that hard to defeat, fortunately.

The next demon they came across, however, was an entirely different story. It looked just like the abominations that they'd come across, only larger. As soon as they entered the room, it turned to study them. "Oh, look," it drawled. "Visitors. I'd entertain you but . . . too much effort involved."

"Killing demons is entertainment enough for me, thanks," Aedan snapped, reaching for his sword. He had about as much patience as Ayla did for demons.

Ayla was reaching for her own weapons as well, but her limbs felt strangely leaden and sluggish. It was like pushing through mud. She'd never felt anything like it before.

"But why? Aren't you tired of all the violence in this world? I know I am. Wouldn't you like to just lay down and . . . forget about all this? Leave it all behind?" With each word that came out of the demon's mouth, Ayla could feel the leaden numbness weighing ever more heavily on her. Looking around, she could see the others were starting to crumple under the weight also.

"Can't . . . keep eyes open," Alistair gasped to her right. "Someone . . . pinch . . . me."

"I'll not listen to your lies, demon." Though Leliana was trying to sound forceful, she could not seem to get her words out any better. "You have no . . . power over me . . ."

"Resist!" Wynne cried. "You must resist, else we are all lost . . ."

Ayla was fighting as hard as she could, since the very thought of falling asleep in front of this demon and falling prey to it was utterly terrifying to her. But she could feel herself sinking to the ground even as she protested. "I will not . . . I cannot allow it . . . Goddess . . ."

The demon pierced them all with an intense gaze. "Why do you fight? You deserve more . . . You deserve a rest. The world will go on without you."

The last thing Ayla heard before she hit the ground was Aedan saying, "No, we have to save them . . ."

* * *

She was furious, Ayla decided as she stalked through this strange place. Absolutely furious. That thrice-damned demon had not only tried to trap her in some illusion, but it had actually tried to make her think her father was still alive. As soon as she found it, it was going to be in pieces. Tiny pieces! Maybe she'd even shift forms so she could rip it apart herself, limb from bloody limb!

"Ayla, is that you?" she heard a voice float over to her from her right.

She whipped in that direction, swords out and at the ready. Aedan stood several feet away in the shifty haze that seemed to pass for this world, hands up. "Don't attack, it's just me," he said hastily.

"Prove it," Ayla snapped. Ordinarily she'd be able to tell; but none of her senses were working properly in this world. She couldn't smell anything, and her instincts felt dull, hazy and cut-off. Even her eyesight didn't seem to be working entirely properly; things that were farther away seemed blurred. She bloody well hated it here.

"Uh . . . we were in the Circle and some demon made us fall asleep?" Aedan shrugged. "I am not entirely sure what you want me to say . . . but we are in the Fade, and we need to get out. You're the first of our group I've found."

Ayla relaxed her stance, though she couldn't make herself feel comfortable enough to sheath her weapons. All the "people" in her illusion had been bound and determined to make her forget everything that had happened before. Aedan was as straightforward as always. Surely it had to be him. Besides, unlike her illusion, she wasn't in any place that was familiar to her. It was some sort of rocky island with odd, shrunken plants and crumbling stone ruins all around. "The Fade? Is that what this . . . _place_ is?"

Aedan nodded, coming closer to her. "It's where the demons and spirits live and come from. Mages can travel in it freely, if they use lyrium. Ordinary people like us should only come here when we dream. That demon trapped us in here, trying to keep us in some never-ending dream."

"Well, how do we get out?" Ayla demanded impatiently. "I cannot stand it in here, and I have a demon that I would very much like to kill."

Anger flashed across Aedan's face, turning his grey eyes almost silver. "You and me both," he said grimly. "Anyway, before I found you, I found that mage Niall. He has been trapped in here as well. He says that demon is called a sloth demon, and probably rules this whole section of the Fade. It's on a center island, surrounded by five other islands, that are guarded by lesser demons. We'll have to defeat them all to break the wards and get to the sloth demon."

"Perfect," Ayla declared, sheathing her swords. "Any plan that involves more demons dying sounds like an excellent one to me. But where is . . . everybody else?" She'd just barely restrained herself from saying, _Where is Alistair?_ She was ashamed to admit she'd worried about him before anybody else, when she'd broken free of the illusion and realized she was alone.

Aedan gave her a knowing glance as though he'd guessed what she'd wanted to say. "They're probably trapped on the outer islands. This is one of them; I got here after I defeated the first of the lesser demons. If we defeat the other four, we should be able to get to everybody else."

Ayla nodded. "Let's go then. The sooner we break free of this place, the better."

Aedan turned and began heading back the way he'd come from; Ayla followed him through the strange haze, trying to ignore the panicky feeling rising in her. She didn't know exactly what was causing it, but thought it was probably due to the dulling of her normally keen senses.

"So," Aedan began as they walked, "were you trapped in a dream when you first came here? I was."

Ayla scowled, clenching her fists. Thinking about it only made her furious all over again. "Yes. I was back home, at the Order, training with my brother. And . . ." she hesitated, glancing over at Aedan before continuing. "Alistair was there, only it was like he'd always been there, you know? Like he belonged. Everything was fine at first; I didn't even realize it wasn't real. But then my father came in, and I knew. I saw his dead body; there's no way I would ever forget that day. I knew there was no way he could be alive, so I rejected him, and suddenly everybody attacking me. So I killed them all, and then I was free. What . . . did it make you see, if you don't mind my asking?"

Aedan's face was black with anger again, but he sighed and began to relate his own story. "I suppose it is only fair, since you told me. It was pretty much the same as yours. I was back at Highever, and my family was all there. Morrigan was there too." He gave her a wry grin. "Well, not the Morrigan that we all know, but a version of her that would fit in my life in Highever. But I knew, just like you did. I've seen my family dead, and Highever burning. I rejected the fake version, same as you, and broke free in the same way. That sloth demon will pay for trying to make me think they were alive - and forcing me to kill demons that looked just like them." His voice was vibrating with fury by the time he'd finished.

"I know exactly what you mean," Ayla said in a low voice. "I'll try to leave you some when we get there, but I cannot promise anything."

"Same here," Aedan said coolly. "Now let's find everybody else and see if they are still trapped in their dreams."

They made their way through the Fade, using the magical pedestals that transported them to the different islands, and fighting the spirits, dreamers, and demons that blocked their way. Every island they went to was some twisted version of the real world, and full of battles. After what felt like hours of fighting, they'd finally defeated all of the lesser demons on all of the islands, and the wards were gone. They used the pedestal to go to one of the outer islands first, deciding that they would find all of the others before going after the demon.

The first island they went to was the one where Alistair was trapped. The rocky, ruined and desolate island was so small that they saw him right away, as soon as they got there. He was standing next to a woman – well, something pretending to be a woman, anyway – with short red hair wearing a homespun dress. There were several children around and behind them, surrounding a bonfire.

Ayla felt unaccountably jealous and angry when she saw that there was not a version of her there. It didn't seem fair – he'd been in her dream, why wasn't she in his? Who was this woman, that he was content to dream he was with her, and have children with her? She was working up to a good level of fury as they approached Alistair and the fake people, when Alistair spotted her and Aedan, and his face lit up.

"Hey, it's good to see you, Ayla! I was just thinking about you! Isn't that a marvellous coincidence? Oh, and Aedan, you're here too! This is my sister, Goldanna," he indicated the "woman" standing next to him, "these are her children, and there's more about somewhere. We're one big happy family, at long last." He finished with a beautiful smile spread across his face.

Well, now she felt better, Ayla had to admit, her fury deflating. He was dreaming of his sister, not some other woman being his lover. But since when did he have a sister? She looked at Aedan in confusion; he shrugged in return, looking equally confused. It appeared Alistair was still keeping secrets from the both of them. She felt a little guilty that they were going to break him out of this dream that seemed to make him so happy, but she wasn't about to leave him here.

Aedan came up next to Ayla. "It is good to see you as well, Alistair. But . . . you know those are demons, right?"

Alistair grinned and brushed this off. "Oh, that's what everyone says about their relatives, but I've never been happier."

"I'm overjoyed to have my little brother back," the demon Goldanna piped up. "I'll never let him out of my sight again!"

"May we borrow him for a moment? We have business elsewhere." Aedan crossed his arms, staring at the demon Goldanna in challenge.

Alistair backed away a few steps, shaking his head at Aedan. "I . . . don't think I'll be coming. I don't want to spend my life fighting, only to end up dead in a pit with rotting darkspawn corpses."

Ayla frowned. She couldn't blame Alistair for not wanting to leave a dream that made him happy to go back to a place of death and destruction, for duty's sake. Time to try a different tactic; just trying to talk to Alistair was obviously not going to work. She could only hope her idea would. "Let me handle it," she whispered to Aedan, as the demon and Alistair talked about staying for supper and mince pie, and he nodded. "Keep it busy if you have to." She turned back to Alistair.

"We'd love to stay for supper," she turned her best charming smile on Alistair, who grinned in return. "But can I talk to you in private for a second, over here?"

She gestured to a spot several feet away from "Goldanna", and Alistair nodded. "Of course." He followed her over there, as Aedan casually stepped between them and Goldanna, asking her something about her mince pie. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked her as they stopped, facing each other.

"I know that you're happy here, and I'm sorry to do this, but this place, and those people, aren't real." Ayla couldn't help but feel bad as she recalled his beautiful smile from earlier. If this sister of his actually existed in real life, she vowed she'd help him find her so that he could have this for real. "You're real, I'm real, and . . . this is real."

So saying, she closed the distance between them, and going up on tiptoe to take his head in her hands, pulled his mouth down to hers. He froze for a second as she kissed him, probably in shock or surprise, before he began to kiss her back, even harder than he had the first time. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and crushing her against him with a groan. She felt an electrifying tingle sweep through her from the vibration of his groan, and the reminder of how strong he was.

She wrapped her arms around his neck in turn, trying to keep her balance as best as possible as the fire swept through her, making her throb with longing. She wished, not for the first time, that neither of them was wearing armor, but especially him, because it kind of hurt to be crushed against chainmail. Not that she would stop just because of that, however. He tasted as good as she remembered, and she loved the untutored fiery enthusiasm of his kiss as his tongue swept through her mouth. She'd almost forgotten the purpose of what she was doing when she heard Aedan clear his throat loudly behind her, and she unwrapped her arms from around Alistair's neck, pushing lightly at his chest.

He pulled away, taking deep, steadying breaths as he set her down lightly, not letting her go immediately, however. "Ayla, it really is you, isn't it?"

She shivered at the look of pure lust and wonder on his face, his hazel eyes almost black with desire. "It is really me, and it is really Aedan with me, but nothing else here is real. Do you remember what we were doing before, or how you got here?"

He frowned, his forehead furrowing with concentration. "I – it's a little fuzzy, that's strange." He shook his head, ignoring the demon Goldanna's call behind him to come have some tea. "No, wait, I remember a . . . tower. The Circle . . . it was under attack . . . there were demons. That's all I really remember."

She nodded, pleased that she seemed to be getting through to him. "That's right, and then we encountered the sloth demon, do you remember? He made us fall asleep."

"Yes, I – I think I do. Then . . . this is a dream? But it seems so real." He was looking at her in pleading disbelief.

"Of course it's real!" The demon Goldanna's voice was right behind Ayla. She whirled, startled that she hadn't heard the demon approaching. Bloody Fade! She would never have been taken by surprise in the real world! The demon had stalked over to them, followed closely by Aedan, who was already reaching for his sword. "Now wash up before supper and I –"

Alistair looked back and forth between the demon and Ayla as he interrupted the demon. "Something doesn't feel quite right here. I . . . think we should go."

Ayla sighed in relief, refusing to study just how relieved she was that they were going to free Alistair from this dream. "Yes, you should come with Aedan and I. We'll get you out of here."

"No!" Goldanna shouted in a horribly deep, raspy voice. "He is ours, and I'd rather see him dead than free!"

Aedan and Ayla drew their swords, and Alistair followed suit, stepping in front of Ayla as the demon Goldanna launched itself at her, bashing it with his shield, knocking it back several paces. Ayla moved to take on a "child" that had been going for Alistair's unprotected back, while Aedan engaged some of the other demons posing as children. The demons weren't particularly powerful, especially the ones posing as children, so it didn't take long at all for the three of them to defeat every demon there.

"G-Goldanna?" Alistair was staring in disbelief at the corpse that was supposed to have been his sister, having sheathed his sword already. Aedan and Ayla sheathed their weapons as well, coming up alongside him. "I can't believe it. How did I not see this earlier?"

Aedan clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. We're in the Fade, it's not like the real world. It's difficult to know what's real and what's an illusion here."

"Yes, uh, well, try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was." Alistair turned to look down at Ayla, smiling gently at her. "Thank you for . . . uh, waking me up, so to speak."

She cast him a wicked grin, enjoying the adorable blush that spread across his face as she did so. "I'll wake you up like that as often as you like."

He was opening his mouth to reply, still blushing, when suddenly, a mist started to swirl around him. "Are we going now? Wait, where are you going?" His voice was rising in panic as the mist swirled faster. "What's happening to me? Ayla? Aedan?" Just as Ayla reached out to grab his arm, he disappeared, and her hand passed through the air where he'd been standing.

"Alistair!" She was feeling that sudden rising sensation of panic again, now mixed with fear, and she didn't like it at all. She wasn't used to being afraid. "Where'd he go?" She demanded of Aedan, turning to him.

Aedan shook his head, looking startled. "I have no idea. Maybe he woke up completely and isn't in the Fade anymore? Maybe it's because he didn't figure out it was a dream on his own like you and I did?"

"Well - -" she puffed out a breath of air, ordering herself sternly to calm down. Panicking wouldn't help, and Aedan was probably right that Alistair had just woken up properly. They still had to find Wynne and Leliana, anyway. "I suppose we should just keep going then, see about finding the other two."

Aedan nodded. "That's the only thing we can do, I think. Once we get through this place and confront the sloth demon, we'll know for sure what is going on." He glanced at her as they headed over to the pedestal. "I'm certain he's all right."

"Of course he is," Ayla tossed her head, refusing to look him in the eye. "I'm not worried!"

Aedan regarded her skeptically, but didn't say anything further as they left the island. She focused on thoughts of finding the others, and killing the sloth demon. It had even more to answer for now than before, and she could not wait until they found it and confronted it.

 


	13. Sloth and Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party fights the sloth demon and escapes the Fade; they make their way to the top of the tower and confront the pride demon. From Ayla's POV.

Chapter 13: Sloth and Pride

They had found and freed Wynne next. Unlike everyone else so far, Wynne had not been trapped in an illusion that was designed to make her happy; she'd been trapped in a horrifying nightmare, surrounded by the dead bodies of dozens of mages, believing that she'd failed to save the Circle. Ayla wasn't sure why the demon had chosen a true nightmare for her. Was it because she was a mage, unlike the others?

When Ayla and Aedan had come upon her, she'd accused them of abandoning her, of not being around to help her like they'd promised. They'd both tried their best to convince her that what she saw wasn't real, but in the end it had been Aedan who had gotten through to her, who had convinced her to concentrate until she realized something was wrong. This had been followed by all the corpses suddenly rising up and talking to Wynne, and when that hadn't worked, they had attacked as usual.

Ayla didn't know whether to be alarmed or relieved that Wynne had disappeared just as Alistair had following the defeat of the demons. Aedan seemed willing to believe that this meant they were just waking up, and that it was because they hadn't broken free on their own. But what if it wasn't? What if she and Aedan got out of this place altogether, and none of the others did? She tried to shake herself free of that thought as they made their way to the next island. She was not worried; she was not afraid. If no one else made it out, she would survive. She would be fine.

"By the way, that was an interesting method you used to break Alistair free." When Ayla looked over at Aedan, he was smirking at her, grey eyes twinkling.

Appreciating the distraction from her thoughts, she grinned back. "Well, it worked, did it not? Perhaps you should try it on Leliana when we find her."

Aedan laughed, shaking his head. "No thanks, I'd rather not be killed."

Ayla was amused. "Who do you think would kill you, Leliana or Morrigan?" She knew that Aedan and Morrigan were attracted to each other, and it was only a matter of time now before Aedan went to her bed. It was one of the many things she and Morrigan had discussed while out hunting previously.

"Both?" Aedan suggested, making Ayla laugh. "Seriously, though, I am pleased that things appear to be working out for the two of you." He paused, looking over at her before continuing, "I know Alistair has told you that he was raised in the Chantry, but I doubt that you fully realize what that means, being from another world."

Ayla nearly froze in shock before recovering herself and continuing on. "You know about that? And you believe it? How did you know?"

"Alistair told me at Redcliffe after the battle. He thought I should know, being the leader of this odd little group of ours. But I already suspected as much, since Morrigan had already spoken about her own suspicions to me." He frowned thoughtfully. "Hard as it was to believe at first, it made sense the more I thought about it. And it seems Flemeth is certain of the existence of other worlds."

Ayla was surprised about a lot of things, not the least of which being that everybody was taking the idea of another world so well. There was also the fact that Morrigan had discussed the possibility with Aedan. The witch had never asked her or mentioned anything. Morrigan did, however, know her other secret. She'd caught Ayla practicing the shift outside camp one night to make sure she could still do a full one in the leather armor. Ayla hadn't realized she was there, as Morrigan herself had been shifted at the time into the guise of a bird. It was only when she'd flown down and confronted her that Ayla had realized her mistake.

The two had discussed their powers at length after that. Morrigan's powers were apparently due to her magic, and were not limited to just one shape as Ayla's were. And though Morrigan had asked many questions, none of them had been about where Ayla was from. The two had spent time after that hunting together in their shifted forms, and Ayla had found herself starting to form an odd friendship with the woman. It had been a relief to have somebody not only know about her abilities, but accept them as well, though she had asked Morrigan not to reveal them to anyone else just yet. Apparently she had not, though she'd somewhat revealed Ayla's other secret.

"Well," Ayla shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts, "it is good that you know, I suppose. Have you told the others?"

"I don't believe there is a need to," Aedan responded. "Nobody else knows the circumstances of how you joined us, so they shouldn't be suspicious. And the qunari are not exactly an . . . easily accepting sort of people. It might be best if Sten never finds out, and I'm not sure how well Leliana would do with the news either."

Ayla nodded. She didn't have a problem keeping it secret from the others. After all, what good would the knowledge do them? "What were you saying about Alistair and the Chantry?"

"Oh, yes, what I meant to say was that the Chantry is very strict about certain things. Most people who serve the Chantry are required to take vows of celibacy. And though Templars are occasionally allowed to marry, they need special permission from their commander, and are otherwise expected to remain celibate. Not that all of them do, of course. But those that are raised in the Chantry from a young age often have little choice or even opportunity. Though I don't know for certain, I would suspect it's been the same for Alistair." Aedan was frowning, obviously not fully approving of the Chantry's beliefs.

Ayla could only shake her head in astonishment. How meddlesome could one religious order be? It seemed entirely unfair to expect such a thing from those that followed them. It would explain a good deal about Alistair, though. "So, you are telling me to be patient with him, then," she guessed.

Aedan tilted his head as though considering it. "Yes, I suppose I am. Mostly I just wanted you to understand where Alistair is coming from, to give him time if he needs it. I would guess they have no such restrictions in your world, from the look on your face."

Ayla shook her head slowly. "No, in our world mating is viewed as a natural thing, not something to be ashamed of. But I can certainly give him time if he needs it." She was far too interested in the fire he invoked in her, so unlike anything she had ever felt before, to give up on him now. She could wait as long as she needed to.

"Good," Aedan began, but stopped as they arrived at another pedestal. "Ah, it looks like we have found the last one. Leliana must be on the other side."

"Well, let's hurry and get her. I cannot wait to get out of here." Ayla wasn't sure how much longer she could stand this place.

The two used the pedestal to travel to the final island, where they found Leliana praying, with a demon in the guise of an elderly priestess standing next to her. Ayla wasn't quite sure what to make of this illusion. It didn't appear to be either a nightmare or a happy dream, that she could see. Certainly Leliana couldn't be content to only huddle there and pray, yet neither was it a true nightmare on the scale that Wynne's had been.

Furthermore, Leliana did not seem to recognize them at all. When they addressed her, she only turned to the "priestess", saying, "Revered Mother, I do not know these people."

"Do you not remember? We're your friends," Aedan pressed, but from the confused look on Leliana's face, it was clear that she didn't.

"My suggestion is probably looking better now, isn't it?" Ayla murmured to Aedan, who merely rolled his eyes at her before going back to trying to convince Leliana of their identities.

Leliana continued to claim she didn't know them, and the demon told them to leave her alone to pray in peace. Eventually, Ayla had the idea of mentioning the dream that Leliana had stated was her reason for coming with them in the first place, and it finally succeeded in breaking through to Leliana. She decided to leave with them, remembering that she had a purpose elsewhere, which of course prompted the demon to attack.

Since there was only one, it was not at all difficult for the three of them to defeat it, and almost immediately afterwards, Leliana disappeared in the swirling mist, just as Alistair and Wynne had. Ayla still had no idea whether to think of that as a positive thing or not.

She exchanged a look with Aedan, who merely shrugged. "There is nothing to do but move on. Once we defeat the demon and break free, we'll know for sure what happened to the others."

She nodded, knowing the wisdom of his words, but she still couldn't shake the concern that plagued her. "There is only the sloth demon left now. Let's defeat him and get out of this place."

They made their way quickly back through the islands, using the pedestals, until they found the one that led to the center island, where Niall had said the sloth demon would be. They used to cross it over, and were not disappointed when they arrived on the desolate, circular island: the sloth demon was right there, seemingly waiting for them.

The sloth demon was different in appearance than when they'd seen him in the Circle; he now had some sort of pointed helmet covering the upper half of his face, while the bottom half only showed a horrible skeletal mouth. In fact, his entire body was rather skeletal looking, as though it were only bones covered by stretched skin, and adorned with red and gold sashes, shoulder guards, and chains.

"What do we have here?" the sloth demon drawled as she and Aedan approached. "Rebellious minions? Escaped slaves?" He laughed in a disturbing fashion. "My, my, but you do have some gall. But playtime is over. You all have to go back now."

Before either she or Aedan could respond, knowing that it would result in the fight they both wanted so badly, the white mist from earlier drifted past them. She and Aedan both turned, only to see Alistair suddenly appear behind them.

"Oh, here I am! Ayla, Aedan, where did you two go? You just disappeared. Well, no matter!" Alistair shrugged as he smiled at them both, obviously not caring what had happened. Ayla felt awash with inexplicable relief at seeing him standing there. She ruthlessly squashed the urge she felt to fling herself in his arms, even with the sudden unbidden memory of how right it had felt when he had hugged her after Ostagar.

"Alistair! Are you all right?" She couldn't stop the inane question from tumbling out; he obviously wasn't injured.

"Of course I am," he answered, a puzzled expression crossing his face. This was followed by a sudden, slow smile. "Why, were you worried about me?"

Ayla was fortunately saved from having to respond by the sudden appearance of Leliana and Wynne, on either side of Alistair. They both instantly zeroed in on the sloth demon, advancing forward to stand with Aedan.

"You tried to keep us apart. You led us from each other because you fear us. Don't you?" Leliana demanded of the demon, crossing her arms.

"You will not hold us, demon. We found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us." Wynne spoke in a commanding tone, obviously having gotten over her shaken confidence of earlier.

"If you go back quietly, I'll do better this time. I'll make you much happier." The demon was once again speaking in that slow, soothing tone he'd employed on them in the tower, though it seemed to lack the power it had had then.

"I don't want anything you offer," Aedan growled at him, turning back to face him, his hand going for his sword. "I will kill you for making me see them again."

"I made you happy and safe. I gave you peace. I did my best for you and you say you want to leave? Can't you think about someone –" Ayla cut off the demon's diatribe by throwing one of her daggers directly at him, unable to contain her fury any longer. Now that she knew everyone was safe, she was free to slaughter this demon as she saw fit. The demon dodged her dagger expertly, though it did have the fortunate effect of making him shut up.

"The only thing that you can do to make me happy is to die screaming," she snarled as she pulled out her swords. "Trying to use my father against me was the first of many mistakes you made!"

"You wish to battle me? So be it . . . you will learn to bow to your betters, mortal!" The demon exploded with sudden power, taking the form of one of the lesser demons they'd fought, the one that had looked like an ogre.

Ayla launched herself into the fight, Aedan right at her side, both of them uncaring about safety or finesse at this point. The others were quick to join them, Leliana firing her arrows and Wynne casting support magic and other spells aimed at the demon. Alistair had raced to join her and Aedan, and took the blow of the ogre on his shield before swinging his sword at the legs.

The battle raged on from there; just as Ayla had stabbed her swords into the back of the ogre's thighs, bringing it to its knees for Alistair and Aedan to deal a finishing blow, another explosion of power knocked them all flat. As they struggled to their feet, they realized the ogre was gone, replaced with a flaming rage demon, similar to the one she and Aedan had fought earlier.

They renewed their attacks on the demon; Ayla didn't care what form it took, she was going to make it pay. The battle continued on in the same fashion; each time they thought they were about to deliver the finishing blow, an explosion would knock them down, and the sloth demon would take on a new form. Ayla soon realized he was cycling through the forms of the lesser demons they'd faced.

Finally, they forced the demon back into the form he'd been in when they first confronted him. This form was more difficult than any of the others, but they all kept fighting, more determined than ever to break free of the Fade. Finally, they delivered the finishing blow; Ayla leapt to the thing's shoulders, stabbing her swords into either side of its neck, at the same time that Aedan ran his sword through its chest.

The demon crumpled to the ground as they both withdrew their weapons and Ayla jumped down. She was wondering what to expect, if the defeat of the sloth demon would just make them wake up, when a mage appeared in front of Aedan.

Ayla and the other party members stood back and watched as Aedan spoke to the mage; she soon realized it was Niall, as he thanked them all for defeating the demon and freeing all those who were trapped. He also told Aedan to take the Litany of Adralla from his body to protect against someone named Uldred, who was apparently leading the blood mages. He explained that unlike them, he had been trapped here too long and would be unable to return to his body. After Aedan had promised him they would do everything they could to save the Circle, Ayla felt blackness overtake her vision, and everything disappeared from in front of her. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This time, when she awoke, she was back in the Circle Tower, laying on the cold stone floor. Though the smell of decay, death, and rot hit her nostrils so hard she almost gagged, she was immensely relieved to be able to smell again, to feel the cold stone beneath her. She got to her feet and looked around, hearing noises around her that indicated the others were waking up as well, and though the view wasn't exactly pleasant, at least it was sharp and in focus. She never wanted to be back in that place again; not having the use of her senses had made her feel weak and helpless. Both were sensations she loathed more than anything.

As she looked around, she realized she felt utterly exhausted, not in the strange, leaden way that the sloth demon had caused, but in the way that meant she'd been awake and fighting for far too long without food or rest. She felt herself suddenly sway as her knees threatened to give way. Before they could, however, Alistair's strong arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her and keeping her on her feet.

"You're exhausted!" Alistair exclaimed. "You both are." Ayla followed his gaze to Aedan, who was leaning heavily on his greatsword, looking as weary as she felt. "How long were you two fighting your way through the Fade looking for the rest of us? You need to rest."

"I have no idea how long it was. It felt like hours, but how many, I have no idea." Ayla was surprising herself by leaning against Alistair's side, only too happy to let him support her. Had she not been so exhausted, she didn't think she would have done it; it would be so easy to become addicted to the feel of his strong arms around her, but so dangerous. "But we do not have time to rest."

"She's right," Aedan added, trying to push himself to stand up straight, waving off Leliana's attempts to help. "We have no idea how long we were in there, and the Right of Annulment could arrive at any moment. We have to get to the top, find the first enchanter, and defeat this Uldred before the whole tower is purged."

"But—" Alistair began, but Wynne cut him off. "I have a rejuvenation spell that will help, it will temporarily boost their stamina and restore their energy. We are nearly to the top anyway; we should find the others soon."

"Excellent, please do that if you would, Wynne, and we will be on our way." Aedan looked expectantly at Wynne, and she crossed over to him, casting her spell, surrounding him with a warm blue glow. Ayla watched as the lines of weariness left his face, and he straightened up, sheathing his sword.

Wynne next crossed over to Ayla to perform the spell, as Aedan searched the body of Niall, lying on the floor next to the body of the defeated sloth demon. It was an impressive spell; Ayla could feel the warmth spreading through her body, restoring energy to her limbs, and lifting the fog of exhaustion from her brain. She noticed the curious and not entirely approving gaze Wynne was bestowing on her and Alistair, who had not yet let go of her, but she ignored it. It was none of the old woman's business, after all.

Once the spell was complete, Ayla pulled away from Alistair, murmuring her thanks, with a feeling of regret that she also chose to ignore. She could not come to depend on him; it wasn't wise. Aedan straightened up, having found the Litany, and tucking it in a pouch, he gestured for them to move on.

They continued on through the remaining floors of the tower, finding only one more person alive before they reached the very top. A Templar by the name of Cullen was trapped in some sort of mystical prison by the stairs leading to the topmost room of the tower, and had obviously been both physically and mentally tortured. He was shouting about illusions and how about how he'd been forced to watch them kill "her" right in front of him, and been unable to do anything about it. Ayla felt cold at his words and at the obvious emotional damage that had nearly rendered him insane; her greatest fear was to see someone she cared about die in front of her and be unable to stop it. She didn't think she would be able to survive such a thing.

Aedan spoke to him, trying to determine what happened and if anybody else was still alive; once the Templar was able to accept the fact that they were real and not an illusion, he told them that the rest of the mages were in the Harrowing chamber at the top of the tower. He told Aedan to kill everyone up there, shouting that they were all blood mages now, that none could have survived. Aedan flatly refused to do so, however, saying that they needed to see what was going on first. Leaving Cullen ranting behind them, as they could not free him from his prison, they all continued up the stairs, ready to confront Uldred.

When they entered the circular chamber at the top, they saw a mage surrounded by abominations and a balding, older mage, all of whom were casting lightning spells directly into the mage's body as he screamed in agony. "Do you accept the gift that I offer?" the bald mage was shouting in glee.

Ayla glanced around the room, noting that there were three mages lying on the ground off to the right. One was an older, grey haired mage with a beard, while another was a pretty young woman her own age with long black hair. The third was a brown-haired man of middle age. Though they all looked wounded, they were still alive, and not abominations.

A horrible scream jerked her attention back to the bald mage, just in time to see the mage being tortured turn into an abomination. Aedan stalked forward, fury emanating from him, and Ayla was only too happy to follow along with the others. She suspected that the bald mage was the Uldred that Niall had referred to, and likely the cause of everything that had happened in the tower. She could not think of anyone who deserved to die more.

"Ah, look what we have here. Intruders," the bald mage turned to them with a sickening smile. "I bid you welcome. Care to join in our . . . revels?"

Aedan drew his sword, and everyone followed suit. "I'm just going to kill you, if that's all right with you. I'm getting kind of tired, and I'd really like to leave now."

Uldred smiled viciously at him. "Fight, if you must. It will just make my victory all the sweeter."

"Don't forget the litany," Wynne hissed. "It will thwart Uldred's attempts to control the mages and win this fight for us."

As she spoke, Uldred suddenly turned into a massive purple demon in front of their very eyes, covered in spikes, with horns protruding from his head. He was even larger than the ogre that they'd fought at the Tower of Ishal. Alistair cursed from his spot next to Ayla. "A pride demon. That's just wonderful."

Aedan dodged the sudden swipe of an immense fist. "Leliana, see if you can take out his eyes!"

"Right!" Leliana nodded before she began firing arrows at the demon's head.

"Think we can use that same move we did on the ogre?" Ayla asked as she and Alistair began following Aedan's lead, dodging and circling the demon as they fought the three abominations accompanying it. Arrows and magic flew by them.

Alistair shook his head, blocking an abomination's arm with his shield before running his sword through it. "I don't think it will work, at least, not head on. The ogre was slow and stupid; pride demons are known to be fast and very dangerous. We should try to take out its legs while Leliana goes for the eyes."

Ayla nodded, and the two of them finished off the abominations with the help of Aedan and Wynne. They then began the dance of trying to circle around behind the demon and deal damage to its legs, while Leliana fired at its eyes and Aedan distracted it from the front. Every so often, the demon would shout something about accepting its gift again, and Aedan would yell out some words that must have been from the Litany, causing a protective barrier to spring up around the three mages.

Eventually, she and Alistair were able to cause enough damage to the demon's legs and tendons that it stumbled to its knees, at the same time that one of Leliana's arrows struck home in its eye. As the demon roared in fury, Ayla gestured to Alistair, and he nodded. Once again, he gave her a boost into the air; this time, she flew at the demon's back, and landed there with her swords. The demon let out another roar of fury and tried to shake her off, but she held on grimly and used her swords to start climbing its back as Aedan and Alistair stabbed at it from below.

She made it up to the thing's neck and, clinging to one of her swords, used her other hand to pull out one of her daggers and stabbed it straight up into the base of the demon's skull. It gave a wordless cry before it began to topple forward. Off-balance, Ayla wasn't sure she could ride it down without falling, so she leaped clear, hoping she'd land without too much damage.

She did not expect to land in Alistair's arms, but he caught her neatly, only stumbling back a couple of steps before stopping, holding her in his arms the same way he had in Redcliffe. "Well, it's not every day that beautiful women just fall from the sky." He grinned down at her.

"That was an excellent catch, good ser. Perhaps you should be rewarded for that." She gave him a wink, watching a slow smile spread across his face even as his cheeks turned pink.

"Oh? What sort of reward will I get? Cheese?" He asked teasingly, even as his eyes went dark with desire again, sending tingles throughout her body.

"I will have to think about it," she responded airily. "But for now, we should get these mages out of here."

He nodded, turning sober as he set her down lightly. "You are right, of course."

Everyone went over to the three mages, who were struggling to their feet. Though they looked as exhausted as Ayla had felt earlier, and had minor wounds all over their bodies, they were still well enough to stand, even the grey-haired mage who was obviously quite elderly.

"Maker, I'm too old for this," the grey-haired man groaned as he stood up.

"Irving! Are you all right?" Wynne cried as she rushed to his side.

"I've been better," the old man responded wryly. "But I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn't it, Wynne?"

"I wasn't alone. I had help," Wynne gestured to Aedan, Ayla, Alistair, and Leliana, who were all helping the other two mages to their feet. Aedan gave the female mage one of his healing potions, while Leliana offered hers to the other man.

Irving nodded in gratitude at the four of them. "The Circle owes you all a debt we will never be able to repay. Come, the Templars await. We shall let them know that the tower is once again ours."

"Very well, let us go back now." Aedan nodded in agreement, as he offered his arm in support to the female mage.

"I'll need one of you to guide me down the stairs . . ." Irving beckoned to them, and Alistair went over to help him, supporting the old man as they began to make their way towards the stairs leading out. Ayla and Leliana offered their support to the other man. "Ah, curse whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a tower," Irving muttered as they started down the stairs.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ayla noticed that the mystical prison had disappeared, and Cullen was waiting for them. She expected him to start shouting that they should have killed the mages; what she didn't expect was for him to look at the female mage as though he'd seen a ghost.

"Terra?" he breathed, staring at her in disbelief. "I – I saw them kill you. Right in front of me."

"Cullen!" the woman cried, pulling free of Aedan and flinging herself into the shocked Templar's arms. "You're alive!"

"I – yes," the man responded dazedly even as his arms automatically went around the dark-haired woman. "But you – I thought I saw –"

"That was just an illusion they used in order to try and break you, I imagine," Irving said quietly, seeming not to be as surprised as the other mages, who were staring at the two in shock. Wynne looked a little disturbed and disapproving as well, Ayla noted. She supposed that if the Chantry frowned on Templars having relationships, they almost certainly disapproved of Templars being with the mages they were supposed to neutralize. She couldn't help but notice how Cullen suddenly looked much less broken and bitter than he had when they went up the stairs.

"Thank the Maker," Cullen muttered, tightening his hold on the woman and burying his face in her hair.

"While I am glad everything worked out for you," Aedan said, "it is likely best that we get everyone back down to the Knight Commander before he decides that we are not coming back."

Cullen looked up, startled. "Oh, of course. There should be no need for the Right anymore, if all the blood mages are defeated."

Aedan nodded in confirmation, and everybody began making their way back down the tower, this time with Cullen supporting Terra, while Aedan took over from Ayla and Leliana to help the other mage. It was much quicker to make their way through the tower without having to fight abominations or demons, and they reached the bottom in what seemed no time at all. After leaving Terra and the other mage with the group that Wynne had been with in the beginning, they made their way to the double doors, which were opened from the other side after a quick discussion through the doors.

Greagoir reared back in surprise as they all came through the doors, Irving in the lead being supported by Alistair. "Irving? Maker's breath, I did not expect to see you alive."

"It is over, Greagoir. Uldred . . . is dead," Irving said heavily, not sounding as pleased by the fact as Ayla thought he should be.

"Uldred tortured many of the mages, turning them into abominations," Cullen said soberly to his commander. "Fortunately, the Wardens and their allies arrived in time to save a few of them."

"We were simply lucky to have arrived when we did," Aedan replied. "We could not have managed it without Wynne's help, either."

"We will rebuild," Irving said firmly, pulling away from Alistair to straighten himself up. "The Circle will go on, and we will learn from this tragedy, and be strengthened by it."

Greagoir nodded, studying the group seriously. "We have won back the tower. I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well." He turned to Aedan. "Thank you. You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle, and the Templars."

Aedan shook his head. "We merely did what had to be done," he hesitated, exchanging a look with Alistair before continuing, ". . . but we do still need aid to fight the darkspawn."

"I promised you aid, but with the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages. They are free to help you, however. Speak to them," Greagoir answered, gesturing to Irving.

"I thought the Templars were in charge of the Circle." Ayla looked at the commander, confused. Her understanding had been that the Templars made the mages do their bidding.

"The Templars guard and advise, but the first enchanter has the last word in what happens to the Circle. Please, excuse me," Greagoir was already turning his back, heading to direct his men. He turned briefly. "And Irving . . . it is good to have you back."

Irving smiled. "Ah, I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time."

As Greagoir headed off, signalling Cullen to follow as he barked orders, Irving turned to Aedan and the other members of their party. "Here we are, the tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated . . . though it could have been much, much worse. I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as thought the Maker Himself sent you."

Aedan shook his head, looking uncomfortable with the praise, though Ayla wondered herself if it wasn't the work of the Goddess that had sent them here at just the right time to save the few lives that they had. "We are glad that we could help, but, it was the Blight that drove us here to seek aid."

Irving nodded. "The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight."

"I thank you . . . but there are so few mages left," Aedan said hesitantly, looking uncertainly at the first enchanter.

"Do not underestimate us. Even one mage will be a great help to you. You have my word, as first enchanter. The Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight." Irving bowed his head to Aedan, who bowed in return.

Wynne came forward from where she had been standing by Leliana. "Irving, I have a request: I seek leave to follow the Grey Wardens."

Irving frowned, looking at the elderly woman. "Wynne . . . we need you here. The Circle needs you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you. These people are brave and good, and capable of great things," Wynne said, gesturing to Aedan and the others. "If they will accept my help, I will help them accomplish their goals."

Aedan glanced at the other three, who all nodded in return. Though Ayla was getting the feeling that Wynne might be a little judgmental, she knew that her skill with healing magic would be invaluable. Aedan turned to Wynne. "We would be honoured to have you join us, Wynne. Your healing magic would be of great help."

Irving sighed and shook his head in defeat. "You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere."

"Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?" Wynne asked reasonably.

"Then I give you leave to follow the Wardens, but know that you will always have a place here." Irving turned back to Aedan. "There is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host."

Aedan held up a hand to stop him. "Wait, we have one more favour we would ask of you. Can the Circle go to Redcliffe to aid a possessed child?"

"The child is possessed? But killing the demon would mean killing the . ." Irving trailed off, his brow knotted in confusion. "Unless you intend to enter the Fade? Yes . . . yes, it can be done with a group of mages." He nodded firmly. "I shall gather what mages I can and we shall leave promptly. A life is at stake."

"Excellent," Aedan smiled in relief, and Ayla heard Alistair breath a sigh of relief as well. "We have a boat waiting by the ferry that you can use to take back across the lake to Redcliffe. It will only be large enough to carry you and the other mages you can gather; we will have to make our way back on foot. Companions of ours are already there, keeping an eye on the child. Please let them know we will back as soon as we can, and I would ask that you please go ahead with the ritual as soon as you return."

"Of course." Irving went back to the room where they had left the other mages, returning in a few minutes with three other mages and carrying packs. All of them headed down to the ferry docks, where the Templar that had brought them over earlier was still standing guard.

Their group took the ferry back across first, and then waited on the shore until the boat returned with Irving and the other mages. Aedan had meanwhile gotten the sailor out of the inn and explained that he would be taking the mages back to Redcliffe while the rest of them walked. As soon as Irving arrived on shore, the sailor took him and the other mages and set off back across the lake.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I would like a hot meal and a rest at the inn here before we set out," Aedan stated, turning to look at the others.

Ayla nodded; she was feeling exhausted again, and she still had no idea how long it had been since she had slept or ate last. "I couldn't agree more. I believe Wynne's spell is starting to wear off."

"I imagine it is," Wynne responded. "While it is effective, it is no substitute for proper rest and food."

"I think we all deserve a little rest, no?" Leliana smiled at the others. "We accomplished much at the Circle."

"Well, I am starving," Alistair declared cheerfully. "And it will be a long walk back, so we may as well rest first. Let's go inside."

They all went into the inn, in order to get a hearty meal and a good night's rest before setting off again. Ayla hoped that their walk back would be far less eventful than the last few days. After all, she still had to find a time when she wasn't quite so exhausted to give Alistair the reward she had promised him


	14. Meeting With a Crow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair has some thoughts on what happened in the Fade; the party gets ambushed by an Antivan Crow. From Alistair's POV.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age, I own the rest.

Chapter 14: Meeting With A Crow

Alistair was relieved to be back on the road again. Going to the tower had been even worse than he'd thought it would be; he'd gotten a very terrifying vision of what his future might have held if he'd stayed with the Templars. It was something he never wanted to see again if he could help it. Not to mention, the whole ordeal had been exhausting, with the constant fighting and lack of sleep or food.

It had been a relief to spend the night at the inn and get as much food and sleep as they wanted. After discovering they'd been in the tower for well over a day, Aedan had not set any time to leave for Redcliffe, merely saying that when everyone was finished sleeping, they could leave. Given that the mages were on their way back and could perform the ceremony without them, Aedan had said there was no reason they should have to push themselves into the ground to return faster. It would take at least four days circling around the lake on foot for them to get back.

Aedan and Ayla had both slept a few hours longer than anyone else. The others hadn't bothered trying to wake them, knowing that they'd been more exhausted than any of them, having fought their way through the Fade while the others were still trapped in their illusions. They had all left once they were both awake, and continued on their way back to Redcliffe.

He knew that both of them assumed that he'd only been trapped in the illusion they'd found him in. Glancing over at Ayla as she walked beside him now, he wasn't sure whether he would tell her or anybody about the one before that.

Duncan had been alive in his first illusion, and they'd been at the Grey Warden headquarters in Denerim with other Wardens, none of whom he'd ever seen before that illusion besides Aedan, although at the time he hadn't realized that. It had been a day of celebration, because he had been getting married to Ayla. It hadn't been the false Duncan that had alarmed him. No, he'd readily believed the explanation that Duncan, grievously wounded, had survived at a Chasind hut in the Wilds and found them later after he'd recovered. After all, they'd never actually seen Duncan's body.

No, it had been the false Ayla that had led him to the conclusion that nothing he saw was real. It had been little things nagging at him to start with; her saying that they no longer needed to help anyone, that they could go live a quiet life alone together. He hadn't thought that Ayla would ever say those things, but he hadn't been sure until the kiss.

It wasn't that the kiss had been horrible, which was really embarrassing for him to think about, but it hadn't been the same. He hadn't felt that blazing lust, that sweet heady taste, or the overwhelming desire to have her. He'd pulled back in shock, accused her of being an impostor. The demon had protested at first, of course, but seeing his persistent doubt, it had attacked. Unfortunately, he'd hesitated for a second, not quite able to bring himself to attack something that still looked just like her, and that had been all it took. After that, he'd become trapped in that other illusion.

The other illusion had been much more successful. He'd never actually met his sister Goldanna; he'd only just learned about her shortly before the Blight began. He'd been meaning to mention her to Aedan and Ayla, and ask about possibly visiting his sister if they were ever in Denerim. Never having met her, he hadn't been able to identify a fake. And the demon hadn't bothered with anything more elaborate he might catch onto, like trying again with Ayla. He had missed her, though, feeling like she should be there and wondering why she wasn't.

He'd been relieved when she and Aedan had finally arrived, although everything had still been so hazy that he hadn't been able to accept at first what they were saying about the illusion. It wasn't until the real Ayla had kissed him that everything had flashed back; he'd remembered the first illusion, and realized that it really was her. That second kiss was everything he'd remembered the first to be, and more. It was also what had made him realize that she was the only one who could make him feel that way; even if he thought it was her, it wouldn't be the same.

Which was both amazing and terrifying for him to realize. He'd already been worried about losing her; how much worse would it be if he lost her now, knowing that he might never feel that way again? He knew it was far too late to try to reason with himself now and pull away from her, though. He'd become addicted to her touch, to the feel of her in his arms, to her kiss, her smile and her sparkling eyes. He was fairly certain he was falling in love with her; he just wasn't sure what to do about it.

He knew that she desired him; that much was obvious, though he had no idea why. What could a beautiful, experienced woman want with him? Was it simply a lack of other available options? But if it was, why did it seem like she'd been worried about him back in the Fade? Did that mean she cared? Would she ever feel the same way about him as he did about her?

Well, there was no point in worrying about now, he decided as they continued walking. The only thing he could do was keep moving forward, and hope that he could protect her so he could find out if she ever would feel the same way. He glanced over at her again as they walked; as always, he felt that urge to touch her that was only becoming stronger now that they'd kissed. He wanted to know how it would feel to be able to touch more of her, to not have any armor in the way when she was in his arms, to run his hands over her lush curves when they were bare. Just imagining it sent jolts of lust through him. But now was hardly the time, he reminded himself sternly. They weren't alone, and they needed to get back to Redcliffe as soon as possible.

He looked around as they continued, trying to keep his mind off of her. The sky was a glorious blue, and the late afternoon sun was warm and bright; both were welcome changes from the oppressive stone of the Circle tower. The area they were currently moving through had a lot of hills and cliffs, and often the path they took led them through enclosed valleys surrounded by said cliffs. It occurred to him as he looked around that this would be a good place to set up an ambush; he remembered Duncan mentioning that he should be extra cautious in places like this. Just as he thought this, he saw a figure running towards them in the distance. Aedan held up a hand to halt the group from his position in the lead; they all stopped and waited as the person ran towards them.

It was a woman, Alistair saw as she got closer, a young woman in a plain homespun dress, her blond hair flying around her face as she ran frantically up to them. "Oh, thank the Maker! We need help! They attacked the wagon; please help us! Follow me, I'll take you to them!"

Before Aedan could even respond, she'd turned around and begun running back in the direction she'd come. Right towards one of those enclosed valleys, Alistair noted. He'd also noticed that she had an aura of magic about her. Nothing so powerful as Wynne's, but she still could pose trouble. He didn't have the greatest feeling about this.

"She is leading us into a trap," Ayla announced in a low voice, glancing after the woman.

Aedan looked in the direction in which the woman had gone as well, then back to Ayla. "What makes you say that?"

Ayla shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Just a gut instinct, I suppose."

Alistair nodded. "I agree. The woman is a mage, and she's leading us to an area where it would be easy to ambush someone."

Aedan looked at him with surprise. "A mage, is she? That does make it curious that she would be so easily overtaken and running for help. And you are right that someone would have the advantage of high ground on us if we went through there." He paused, glancing at the valley and the surrounding area. "However, I do not see any easy way for us to go around that valley. Also, I would not like to leave this trap for anyone else passing this way. I'd prefer to spring it, if everyone is willing."

Aedan looked to each of them in turn, and they all nodded in response. "Excellent. Let's go before she gets suspicious."

They started after the woman, Aedan at point again, with Alistair and Ayla right behind him. Wynne and Leliana brought up the rear. They hurried to catch up to the woman, and the closer they got, the more tense Alistair became, though he tried to control his reaction. They were right behind the woman now, and it wouldn't do if she noticed him already wanting to draw his sword.

Finally, they came through the opening to the valley, and saw a ruin of wagons and slaughtered oxen ahead of them, spread throughout the area. The woman kept running toward a heavily armed elf with blond hair that skimmed his shoulders, and a large black tattoo running along the left side of his face. She slowed as she approached him, and stopped next to him. He stepped slowly forward, staring fixedly at them before gesturing with his hand.

Warriors appeared from behind the wagons, and archers from the rocks on the cliffs alongside the valley. Alistair, who had stopped alongside the others at the entrance to the valley, heard the sound of creaking timber and looked up at the same time Ayla and Aedan did, seeing a large tree trunk falling towards them. The party all leapt out of the way, which only brought them further into the valley. They all drew their weapons and faced the elf and the woman.

"The Grey Wardens die here!" the elf shouted as he drew the two blades he wore and started forward. The mage was readying a lightning spell at the same time.

"Alistair!" Aedan yelled, nodding towards the mage as he charged forwards as well.

"Leave the elf to me!" Ayla's eyes were dancing with excitement as she raced forward to meet the elf. Aedan nodded briefly, skirting around the clash of blades towards the other warriors who'd come out from the wagons.

Alistair had readied his smite, and neutralized the mage woman just as she was about to shoot a bolt of lightning at him. He'd moved toward her as he did so, dodging arrows that were raining down from the cliffs, and ran the woman through as he reached her. She stared up at him in mute shock for a moment, the look of triumph she'd worn when the trap sprung completely gone now. He finished her with another stroke and moved on to one of the warriors, meeting an axe blade with his shield.

Behind him, Leliana and Wynne were aiming arrows and spells at the archers along the cliffs; a few had already fallen to them. Wynne also cast defensive spells and healing magic at Alistair and the others between her offensive spells. Aedan had already dispatched the first warrior he'd come across, and was moving to a second. Alistair did his best to ignore the rapid clang of swords behind him that came from Ayla and the elf, and was able after a brief battle to defeat the axe-wielder.

Between himself, Aedan, Leliana and Wynne, the supporting fighters and archers were fairly quickly defeated. Once the initial ones on the ground had been taken care of, Leliana had led them up onto the cliffs, disarming traps along the way, to take care of the remaining archers they'd failed to reach. Once all the other fighters had been defeated, they returned to the valley floor, where Ayla and the elf were still fighting.

Alistair started forward to help her, but Aedan stuck out an arm and held him back. "What are you doing?" Alistair demanded in shock, turning to look at him.

Aedan met his gaze calmly, then nodded toward the battle. "Does it look like she's in distress or needs your help? Or that you would be able to get in there to offer it?"

Alistair looked back at the fight. Now that he looked more closely, he noticed that Ayla didn't look concerned at all; in fact, she looked like she was enjoying herself. She was smiling as she spun and danced and wove her way through complicated maneuvers which the elf had no trouble matching. As he glanced at the elf, he saw to his surprise that he wore a matching smile across his face. And Aedan was right; both of them were moving with incredible speed as they fought. Alistair would likely only be a hindrance if he tried to step in now.

He sighed, letting his sword drop, though he didn't put it away. "Fine. But if it starts to look like she's in trouble . . ."

Aedan grinned and shook his head. "Not to worry, Alistair. I would not stop you if I was actually concerned that she would lose."

Shortly after he said that, the elf made a mistake, overreaching with one of his swords. Ayla spun out of the way, and kicking his leg out from under him, clocked the elf on the back of the head with a sword pommel. He crumpled to the ground with a groan.

Leliana reached the two of them before anyone else, even Alistair, and promptly proceeded to tie up the unconscious elf with rope she'd produced from her pack.

Alistair, after glancing at Ayla to reassure himself she was okay, stopped by Leliana along with everyone else. "Um, do you mind if I ask what you think you're doing with him, Leliana? Why aren't we killing him?"

Leliana finished securing the ropes and efficiently stripped the elf of weapons, including removing daggers from places Alistair would never have thought to look, before straightening up. "Why, we must interrogate him, of course. It is obvious he knows who you and Aedan are, and was here specifically to assassinate the two of you. We should find out who hired him and what his plans were."

"Well, it's fairly obvious who most likely hired him," Aedan said dryly, "but I agree it would be a good idea to question him further."

As Ayla came up next to him, sheathing her swords, Alistair studied her more closely. She didn't appear to be at all wounded, to his relief; in fact, her eyes were still gleaming with excitement and her whole face was glowing. "Are you all right?" he asked her softly, feeling the flash of heat in his body when she turned the full force of her eyes on him.

She grinned widely, making the heat flare hotter as she stopped mere inches away. "Never better. It's been a long time since I've had such an enjoyable fight."

The elf groaned and stirred at that moment, likely due to the water Leliana had just splashed on his face. They all turned to look at him as he stirred and lifted his head. "Mmm . . . what? I . . . oh. I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet." He spoke with a pronounced accent that Alistair didn't recognize, but then, he'd never really met anyone from outside of Ferelden until recently.

Aedan stood above the elf, arms crossed, staring down at him impassively. "That could easily be changed, but I have some questions. Starting with who you are and why you are after us."

The elf smiled and nodded from his uncomfortable position on the ground, hands tied behind his back and feet tied together. His eyes quickly scanned over the entire group, lingering longest on Ayla, to Alistair's discomfort, before landing back on Aedan. "Ah! So I'm to be interrogated? Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

Aedan's lips twitched. Alistair was disappointed to see growing amusement in his eyes; it didn't bode well for his hope that they would get rid of the elf. "Well, not so sadly for us. Who hired you to kill us?"

The elf tilted his head, as though trying to remember. "A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was? Yes, that's it."

Alistair sighed. He hadn't really expected otherwise; Loghain seemed to be behind everything bad in his life as of late. He'd even go so far as to hire an Antivan Crow, of all things! He exchanged glances with Aedan, noticing the complete lack of surprise on his face as well. "Of course it was him." Aedan looked at the elf with consideration. "Does that mean you're loyal to Loghain?"

Zevran shrugged as best he could with both hands tied. "I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no, I'm not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service."

Ayla took a step forward from Alistair's side. He looked over at her in alarm. No, no, what is she doing? She was looking at the elf with both interest and amusement, sending sharp pangs of jealousy through him. "What do you plan to do now that you've failed that service? Because it would really be a shame to kill such a challenging opponent – at least while you're unable to fight back."

Zevran grinned widely in reply, his eyes sweeping over Ayla again in a way that Alistair did not like. "I could not agree more!"

Alistair snorted, scowling down at him. "Of course you agree. It means you won't die right away." There was a part of him – a rapidly growing part – that really wanted the elf to die, and wasn't interested in being merciful.

"Oh no," Zevran protested, shaking his head. "It is not just that. Of course I would like to live, but were our situations reversed, I would be equally loath to bring our fight to such an . . . unsatisfying ending. Or to rid the world of the beauty and talents of such a deadly sex goddess." He winked at Ayla as he finished the last statement.

Alistair actually felt a growl escape him, which was a little shocking to him as he didn't think he'd ever been that mad before, but he hadn't been able to help it when he'd seen that Ayla wasn't offended, but smiling. When she heard the growl, though, she touched his arm gently and shook her head at him. Though he wasn't sure why, the gesture succeeded in calming him down.

"If we could get back on topic now," Aedan said dryly, "might you answer the question as to what you plan to do about this 'service' of yours now?"

Zevran shrugged again, transferring his attention back to Aedan. "Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself. As for us, well, that remains to be seen, does it not?"

Aedan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why exactly are you telling us all this so easily?"

"Why not? I wasn't paid for silence." Zevran laughed. "Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

Aedan paced back and forth for a minute, as though trying to come to a decision. Alistair watched him, growing more concerned about what he would do by the minute. Aedan stopped in front of Zevran again. "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

The elf smiled slowly. "Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

Aedan frowned before nodding once, abruptly. "I'm listening. Make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause." No, he really didn't like where this was going, Alistair thought, before Zevran finished, "So let me serve you, instead."

What was even worse that Aedan actually looked to be considering Zevran's offer when he asked, "And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?"

Zevran was watching Aedan closely now, as though knowing his freedom was close at hand, as he explained, "To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

"Won't they come after you?" Aedan demanded, arms crossed as he seemed to weigh everything. He was looking as though he'd actually believed what the elf had said, and Alistair noticed a brief glance between him and Ayla, with her nodding before his attention returned to the elf.

Zevran shrugged again, seemingly unconcerned. "Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help." He cast an admiring look at Ayla which almost caused Alistair to growl again. The only reason he did not was that Ayla had looped her arm through his, which was making him feel more than a little smug. "Besides your own obvious skills, it appears that you have skilled friends, as well. And if not . . . well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?"

"All right," Aedan said slowly. "So if you were to offer me your services, why precisely would I want them? As you have pointed out, we are quite skilled ourselves."

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more . . . sophisticated . . . now that my attempts have failed. I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed?" With this last offer, he leered at Ayla, and Alistair took a step forward, fury blazing through his veins, causing Ayla to pull him back. And once again, she didn't look offended! "Fend off unwanted suitors?" he continued, now looking Alistair specifically in the eye. Unable to think of an adequate response, Alistair merely glared his hatred at him, causing the elf to smirk and finish, "No?"

Aedan shook his head, back to looking amused again. "While I don't believe you really helped your case with those last few, I believe I will accept your offer."

"What?!" Alistair squawked, finding his tongue at last. Bad enough they weren't killing him, now they were inviting him along?! "You're taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?"

"Don't worry about it," Aedan waved off Alistair's concerns. "We need as much help as we can get, and you saw him fight. We could use him."

"But –" Alistair began, but Ayla squeezed his arm, interrupting him. "I think we can trust him. We should at least give him a chance to prove himself. If he betrays us, then we can kill him." She cast a dazzling smile at him, which caused his brain to go a little mushy.

Alistair sighed wearily. As much he didn't like it, he did trust Aedan and Ayla to make the right decision. "Hmmm. All right, all right, I see your point. Still," he added, determined to get the last word in, "if there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."

Leliana used one of her daggers to cut Zevran's ropes, and helped him to his feet, beaming at him. "Welcome, Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan."

"Oh?" Standing face-to-face with her, Zevran gave her a longer once-over then he had previously. "You are another companion-to-be, then? I wasn't aware so much loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely."

Leliana frowned, seeming not to find his flirtations as amusing as Ayla had. "Or maybe not," she said curtly, moving away.

Zevran shrugged and stepped over to Aedan, placing his hand over his heart and bowing low. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation . . . this I swear."

"Let's hope you can keep your word." Aedan turned to Leliana. "Why don't you give him back his weapons? If he is to travel with us the rest of the way, he won't be of any use if he can't help us in a fight."

Leliana raised her eyebrows doubtfully, but she nodded before returning Zevran his collection of daggers and the two longswords he'd wielded in his fight against Ayla. The elf quickly re-armed himself.

"I'll have you take point, as well," Aedan gestured to the opposite side of the valley, which was the only way they had to leave now. "I'd rather have you where I can see you, in case you start trouble." He glared sternly at Zevran. "Make no mistake, just because I did not kill you this time, does not mean I will hesitate if you give me a reason to doubt you. This is your one and only chance."

"Indeed, I would expect nothing else!" the elf exclaimed as he headed to the front of the group. "Though I don't suppose your lovely mage friend might consider healing my wounds?"

"I will not," Wynne sniffed, crossing her arms. "You have at most a headache, I'm sure, and maybe you'll learn your lesson if you have to suffer through it."

"Ah, so harsh! But you are right, of course." Zevran swept her a bow before making his way to the front of the group. He began to lead them out of the valley, Aedan shaking his head as he fell in a few steps behind the elf.

Alistair followed, Ayla close by his side again, and Wynne and Leliana took up the rear. "I still don't think this is a good idea," Alistair murmured when he was sure there was enough distance between the elf and the two of them.

Ayla turned to look up at him, smiling slyly. "Are you sure it's not just because you're jealous?"

"What?! I am not!" Alistair spluttered. When she merely raised her eyebrows at him, he conceded, "All right, maybe I am a little. But that's not the point. The point is, he's an assassin who tried to kill us. How can we possibly trust him?"

She shook her head as she smiled reassuringly at him. "Let me start off by saying you don't need to be jealous. Just because I find his attempts at flirtation more amusing than offensive, does not mean I am attracted to him. But also, I don't believe he was really trying to kill us."

Alistair looked down at her in shock. "What do you mean? He ambushed and attacked us!"

She nodded. "Yes, but any skilled assassin would make use of any weapon to get the job done, including poison. He didn't." She pulled up the bottom of her skirted armor to show a gash across her thigh. "If he had, I would have been dead already."

Alistair stopped dead, worry spilling through him at the sight of the blood on her thigh, even as logic told him the wound wasn't bad. "Why didn't you have Wynne heal that? How could you let him hit you if you thought his swords were poisoned?"

Ayla rolled her eyes as she let the skirt drop before tugging on his arm to get him moving again, waving away Wynne who had started forward to heal her. "As flattered as I am by your estimation of my skills, I didn't let him do anything. He got a blow in, fair and square. But he has a matching wound on his leg, so we're even. It's nothing but a scratch, not even worth bothering Wynne with. The point is, though, that even a scratch would have been enough if he'd poisoned his blade."

Alistair sighed, trying to calm himself down. As if he didn't have enough reason to worry about her fighting, now he was imagining what would happen if she was hit with a poisoned blade. "So maybe he just forgot, or maybe he's not that good of an assassin. It doesn't mean he wasn't trying to kill us."

Ayla shook her head. "I don't know for sure, of course, but I imagine by the way he spoke of those Crows that they're a fairly well-known assassin order, are they not?"

"Well, yes," Alistair admitted. "They're famous throughout Thedas as being the best assassin's guild. There's even talk that they run all of Antiva."

"So it's unlikely he'd be such a poor assassin that he'd forget to use poison. Besides that, you saw how skilled he was when he was fighting me, right?" When he nodded reluctantly, she continued, "But he made a very simple and obvious mistake that allowed me to knock him out. Otherwise, I cannot say for sure who would have won that battle."

Alistair frowned doubtfully. "So what are you saying? That he attacked us without any intention of killing us? How would he know that we would let him live? Even I didn't think we would have."

Ayla shrugged, watching Zevran as he walked at the head of the group. "I don't think he did know. It's possible he wanted to escape the Crows so badly that he didn't much care how it happened."

He didn't want to feel sympathy for the elf, but it seemed to be happening anyway. He wanted to feel nothing but dislike for Zevran, who had dared to flirt with Ayla – his Ayla. But unfortunately, he was starting to feel twinges of sympathy as he realized what she meant. "You think he would rather have been killed by us than stay with the Crows?"

"There are some things that are more frightening to a person than their own death," Ayla said quietly, her normally bright eyes shadowed.

He knew exactly what she meant. He would rather have died at Ostagar than lost Duncan, and the thought of losing her was becoming far more frightening than the thought of himself dying on the battlefield. With that thought in mind, he pulled her a little tighter to his side. If Zevran really was going to fight with them, that meant one more pair of swords that might keep Ayla from danger. "All right, I'll give him a chance. But if he betrays us . . ."

"Then he's dead," Ayla said simply. Casting a quick glance backwards and forwards to make sure that none of the others were nearby, she whispered to him, "Tonight at camp, you should come find me. I'll give you that reward."

Alistair went hard almost instantly, at the same time as he blushed. Did she mean what he thought she meant? He wasn't sure how far he was ready to go, but surely it wouldn't hurt to find out what she meant. "A-as you wish, my lady," he blurted out, just barely managing to keep his voice low.

She smiled at him and winked, and Alistair wished fervently that it was night time already. He looked away from her, trying to focus on the road ahead, and noticed Zevran glancing back at the two of them and winking. He scowled. He might be willing to give Zevran a chance, but he didn't think he could bring himself to trust or like the elf anytime soon. He wasn't quite sure whether he was more worried about the fact that the elf was an assassin, or that he clearly desired Ayla. But if he had anything to say about it, Zevran was not getting anywhere near her. He would make sure that the elf knew that if he ever tried flirting with Ayla again.


	15. Nights on the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Ayla finally have some alone time together; Alistair has a Warden nightmare and tells Ayla some more of the Warden's secrets; the party arrives at Redcliffe and reunites with the others. From Alistair's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This one contains a bit of smut at the start. Not full-on smut, but for those of you who don't wish to read it, please skip down to the first break in the chapter. Everything following that is only plot related and smut-free. **

Chapter 15: Nights on the Road

Alistair had just returned to camp from bathing at the river when he saw Zevran talking to Ayla. He scowled as he approached the two of them. Ever since they'd made camp for the night, the elf had made suggestive comments to everyone, including himself and Aedan, though he wasn't sure how serious Zevran had been about the last two. But his comments had most often been directed at Ayla and Leliana, and though Alistair had warned him off more than once, the elf had continued, and Ayla wouldn't let him intervene directly, saying it wasn't worth bothering over.

But that did not sooth his jealousy at all. He could feel it boiling through his veins as he got close enough to hear Ayla say, "You will have to give me another chance to spar with you, only without holding back this time."

"Such a slanderous accusation, my dear!" Zevran exclaimed, hand over his heart. "You wound me!"

"I will if you hold back on me again," Ayla retorted.

"Ah, well, if you truly wish to spar with me and see which one of us comes out on top, I will of course be more than happy to indulge you, my dear," Zevran smirked at her, his tone as suggestive as always.

"Zevran," Alistair growled as he reached them. He would have said more, but Ayla turned to him with a bright smile.

"Alistair, there you are! Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

He paused, all anger draining out of him as he looked down at her and she winked. He suddenly remembered what she'd said about coming to find her at camp. She'd obviously been to the river already to wash up like he had been, since her hair was down in all its fiery glory and she was wearing the cotton tunic and leggings she liked to wear around camp, just as he was. All thoughts of Zevran flew from his head, replaced by a wave of nervousness and desire at the thought of being alone with her.

"O-of course, if you want to," he managed, taking the arm she was holding out to him as though he were escorting her at a ball.

"Ah, I see that we will have to spar some other time. It appears as though you are already . . . busy, as it were." Zevran looked back and forth between the two of them, a wicked grin on his face.

Alistair was torn between being embarrassed and being smug that Zevran obviously knew what they had in mind. Ayla obviously had no such qualms, for she merely smiled at the elf and said, "Indeed we are. Have a good night, Zevran."

She turned and tugged on Alistair's arm to lead him away from Zevran, back towards the river, as Zevran called after her, "Alas, I fear it will not be as good as your night."

Embarrassed it is, Alistair thought, feeling his face flame as Ayla led him out of the camp. Fortunately, Wynne had already been sleeping in her tent, and Aedan and Leliana had been talking at the far side of the campsite from where they had been, so he hoped they hadn't heard what Zevran had said. He wasn't really sure that he wanted everybody to know they'd gone off alone.

Ayla stopped when they got to the edge of the river and sank down gracefully onto the grassy bank. It was a beautiful summer night, just warm enough not to be uncomfortable, and the reflection of the moon and stars shimmered on the water. But Alistair only had eyes for her as she patted the grass next to her. His palms were sweating, his heart was racing, and he couldn't decide if he was more nervous or eager.

"Relax, Alistair." She smiled up at him as she tucked her feet underneath her. "Sit down."

He sank down onto the grass next to her, a good deal less gracefully than she had, and willed himself to calm down. He twisted his hands together, not sure what he should do next.

She laid a hand on his knee. "Alistair, look at me."

So he did, thinking again as he looked at her how beautiful she was. What if he did something wrong? What if she decided she wasn't interested anymore? He didn't know if he could take it if he screwed this up, and Maker forbid, she decided Zevran was more worth her while.

She squeezed his knee, smiling reassuringly as she said, "I know you haven't had much opportunity for this sort of thing before. Aedan told me a bit about what being raised in the Chantry is like. You were raised to look at the idea of being with someone much differently than I was. So, I guess what I'm saying is, I don't want to go too fast for you. Let's just enjoy being alone together for once and we'll stop whenever you want to stop."

Alistair stared at her in astonishment. What he had done to deserve a woman like this? He didn't even know what to say in response to her generous understanding. "I - I – thank you," he stammered at last. "You're right, I . . . don't really know what I'm doing here, or what to do next."

She smiled and shrugged at him, her eyes twinkling. "Do whatever you want to do. Like, do you want to kiss me?"

"Maker, yes," he breathed. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath of air. And, at least, he sort of knew what he was doing when it came to that. He leaned down towards her, all his focus on those lips of hers.

She reached up, looping a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his head the rest of the way down to hers. When their mouths met, he forgot entirely about being nervous as fire raced through his veins. He reached for her, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap, never breaking away from her mouth.

She chuckled softly against his lips as she wrapped her other arm around his neck and pressed herself more fully against him. For the first time, he could feel the warmth and softness of her body against him as they kissed, only cotton separating them now instead of armor. It was the most incredible sensation, he thought hazily as she straddled his lap.

He kept one arm wrapped around her waist as he put his other hand at the back of her head, tangling his hand in that wonderful hair of hers, which felt as silky as he'd always thought it would. He ravished her mouth as he kept her pressed tightly against him, loving the taste of her, the feel of her wrapped around him. He was becoming harder by the second.

She pulled her mouth back a little ways from his, drawing in a deep breath. "Anything else you'd like to do?"

He stared at her uncomprehendingly before she added, "You can touch me wherever you'd like, you know." She leaned up and whispered against his ear, "I liked the way you touched me the first time you kissed me."

He shuddered from the feel of her hot breath on his ear, and it took him a second to realize what she was talking about. She meant when he'd squeezed that lovely, rounded backside of hers. And she'd . . . liked that? She nodded when she saw the comprehension in his eyes.

He took the hand resting on the swell of her hip and slid it over her bottom, squeezing gently. She moaned and bit her lip as he did so, and all his blood rushed straight south. She gave him a quick, fierce kiss. "Touch me, kiss me, wherever you want to."

Kiss her wherever he wanted to? Well . . . he gently tilted her head to the side with his other hand and nudged her hair out of the way, before placing a kiss just behind her ear, laving the area with his tongue. Encouraged when she gasped, "Oh, yes, Alistair," he continued on his way down the side of her neck.

He alternated between kissing, licking, and sometimes gently sucking as he made his way down her lovely neck, enjoying the taste of her skin and the noises she made as he did so. Her hands were roaming all over his shoulders and back, creating trails of fire wherever they went, and she would occasionally rock on his lap, shooting white hot lust through his groin. He felt incredible; he'd never realized how amazing this would feel, and suddenly understood why all his Warden brothers had been so obsessed with it.

He started exploring her with his other hand, trailing it back to her hip and then up underneath her tunic, loving the softness of her skin under his hand. He let his hand roam all over her back and sides as he kissed his way across her collarbone and down to the v-neck of her tunic. "Ayla," he murmured against her skin, "you're so soft and you taste so good."

"Alistair, hold on a second," she said breathlessly, putting a hand to his chest and pulling back a little. He was confused, dropping his hands to his sides, wondering if he'd done something wrong, until she pulled her tunic over her head.

His breath left him in a whoosh as he took in the sight of all that bare, creamy white skin, the only thing left being her breast band wrapped around her chest. She reached up behind her back and undid the clasp, unravelling the breast band. He watched her movements like a hawk until the band fell away, and groaned aloud at the sight of her full breasts and rosy nipples when they were finally bared to his gaze.

"It isn't fair for me to be the only one shirtless," she murmured, smiling as she tugged at the hem of his tunic. Taking the hint, he pulled his own tunic off, tossing it aside.

He was thrilled at her reaction when her eyes widened and she licked her lips before running her soft hands over his chest and his abdomen. "You're even more handsome than I thought," she breathed.

"I . . . I am?" He didn't even realize she'd thought he was handsome; no woman, at least, no woman that wasn't a prostitute, had ever told him so. But he couldn't doubt her words, not when she was nodding and looking at him like that, her eyes blazing with desire. Her hands drifted to the waistband of his leggings, and his whole body jerked when her nails grazed his skin there. He gasped and grabbed her wrists. His control over his arousal was slipping; if she touched him there now, he'd embarrass himself completely. "Hold on, I'm not done touching you yet."

"Oh?" She grinned wickedly at him. "Then by all means, touch away."

Letting go of her wrists, he settled his hands at her hips, pulling her closer again. Deciding to pick up where'd he left off, he pressed his lips to the upper swell of her left breast, then began trailing his mouth down until it reached his ultimate target. When he pulled her nipple into his mouth, she gasped and arched her back, giving him better access as her fingers tangled in his hair, holding his head in place. Enjoying the little mewling noises slipping from her throat, and the way her hands clutched at his hair, he suckled on her for a little longer before switching his mouth to her other breast.

He'd never felt like this before, he thought as his hands began to roam her body again. It was like he was on fire, his blood molten lava, his body tingling everywhere they touched. And he'd never felt so confident in his life before as he did now, knowing that he was the one giving Ayla such pleasure, which in turn, seemed to give him more pleasure. He mentally thanked his fellow Wardens for the advice they'd pushed on him so long ago, knowing that it was coming in handy now.

She was leaning over him, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulder, running her hands over his back, as he continued his attentions on her breast. He trailed his hand up and caressed her other breast, squeezing gently, then pinching her nipple. As he did that, she suddenly bit down on his shoulder, and the combination of pain and pleasure was so electrifying that his hips bucked beneath her.

She gasped, then ground down on his lap, and he pulled his mouth away from her, suddenly unable to focus on anything but the sensation throbbing in his loins. "Ayla," he moaned, before dragging her mouth to his, needing to taste her again.

As he kissed her fiercely, holding her head in place again as his other hand kneaded her breast, she rode his lap in a grinding rhythm that was winding him tighter and tighter. His hips began bucking up to meet her of their own accord, and he could feel the vibrations of the gasps and moans she was making inside his mouth, which only aroused him further.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, gasping for air as she rode him relentlessly. The pressure was building faster and faster in his body. "Ayla . . . I . . . think I'm going to . . ."

"Me too," she groaned, burying her face in his neck and holding onto him as she kept going, never breaking her rhythm. Suddenly, she gave a sharp cry before biting into the side of his neck, and the jolt that sent through him finished him off. His back arched and he clutched her convulsively to him as his release hit him and he saw stars.

He fell back on the grass, simply laying there, trying to catch his breath as she lay on top of him. He hadn't let go of her, his arm still clutching her around her waist, and after soothing the place she'd bit with her tongue, she laid her head on his chest.

"That . . . that was incredible," he managed at last, feeling that word was completely inadequate to describe what had just happened. "I've never felt anything like that before. I . . . was that okay?"

She chuckled, lifting her head to look up at him. If he'd thought she looked beautiful before, it was nothing to how she looked now, hair mussed, lips bright red from his kiss, eyes glowing with a soft light as she smiled. "You just gave me an intense orgasm without even taking all my clothes off and you're asking if it's okay?" She laughed again as his face flamed. "Not only was it okay, it was amazing, and I hope you do it again sometime. If you want to, of course." She winked at him.

"Maker's breath, how could I not want to do that again?" He tucked strands of her hair behind her ear, watching her face soften as he trailed his hand down her cheek. "You're so beautiful. I am a lucky man."

He was surprised when she blushed and ducked her head at his words. "I . . . I don't know about that," she said softly. "I'm not anything special, really."

His eyes widened. How could she think that about herself? "Yes, you are," he said firmly, catching her chin in his hand and making her look at him. "You're brave, compassionate, generous, smart, funny . . ."

She cut him off by pressing her lips to his, kissing him passionately, her tongue rubbing against his even as the rest of her body rubbed against his bare chest. By the time she was finished and pulled back, he could barely remember his own name. "What was I saying?" he asked dazedly.

She smiled. "Nothing important. Do you want to . . . keep going?"

"I . . ." he hesitated. He really wasn't sure. He'd loved what they were just doing, and he still wanted her with a surprising fierceness, but at the same time, he really wanted his first time to be something . . . special. Perfect. He wanted it to really mean something, to happen in the perfect place. He wasn't sure if this was it. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to go . . . all the way, just yet. I mean, I am, but I'm not . . . I must sound like an idiot. Turning down an incredible woman like you? I mean, I'd have to be."

"It's okay, I understand." She smiled at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "You don't take this sort of thing lightly. I can wait until you're ready."

"See what I mean?" He smiled at her in turn, pulling her back down for another tender kiss. "I am a lucky man. So . . .was that my reward? Because if so, it was much better than cheese."

She laughed. "I should hope it was! And no, I actually had something a little different in mind, but you distracted me. Still, I suppose it worked out just as well in the end."

Something different? What exactly had she been planning to do? "What were you going to do instead?"

She winked at him as she pushed herself off his chest, going to collect her breastband and tunic. "You'll just have to wait and see next time, won't you?"

"Oh, that's not fair," he groaned as he sat up, enjoying the view as she leaned over to pick up her clothes. "You are an evil woman."

"Am I?" she grinned as she wrapped her breastband back on. "Come on, we'd better get back before everyone gets worried."

Alistair sighed as he went to collect his own tunic. He wasn't looking forward to going back and not being alone with her anymore, especially if it meant Zevran flirting with her again. But he knew she was right. The two of them finished dressing and made their way back to camp. As he wrapped an arm around her, he was already wondering when he'd be able to get her alone again. They didn't have to go all the way, but he certainly wouldn't mind a repeat of what they'd just done.

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As it turned out, with the way the watch schedules worked out for the next few nights, and with all the bandits and other issues they ran across on their way back to Redcliffe, they weren't able to spend much time alone. At best, they were able to steal a few kisses and caresses before someone or something would interrupt them. Then, on the last night on the road before they reached Redcliffe, Alistair had the nightmare.

It started out as the typical darkspawn dream he'd become used to. The archdemon was there, growling and snarling its unintelligible commands to the horde screaming below it. The whole thing was, as usual, fuzzy and difficult to make out. But then, it suddenly morphed into something different.

He was on a battlefield, fighting for his life against the darkspawn. As he rounded a corner, he saw the archdemon in front of him. He stumbled to a halt as he saw the bodies gruesomely stacked around it, and recognized his friends. Aedan, Leliana, Morrigan, Sten, Wynne, even Zevran, were all lying dead around it, along with everyone he'd ever known or met before. And as he watched, the archdemon flung something out of its mouth, which landed at his feet.

Ayla's lifeless green eyes stared up at him, her body twisted and mangled, her hair now the red of blood. As he crumpled to his knees in grief and despair, a scream ripped from his throat.

He woke up with a start, sitting up in his tent, trembling and shaking. Aedan was suddenly there, pulling aside the tent flap, dressed only in leggings, looking as though he'd been pulled from sleep, slightly wild-eyed. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"It was . . . the darkspawn dreams. At least . . . it was at the start." He took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

Ayla appeared next to Aedan, dressed in her armor, as she'd been on watch, looking at him with concern. "Alistair? What's wrong?"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce embrace. She froze for a second before hugging him in turn. He could feel his heart rate finally steadying now that he had her, warm and alive, in his arms. "Nightmares," he mumbled into her hair.

Aedan studied him, grey eyes dark with sympathy. "It wasn't the typical dream? Do you remember what you saw?"

"Yes, it was . . . it started out like it normally does. But then, it changed. I was fighting darkspawn, and the archdemon was there. And everyone was dead around it. You, Leliana, Morrigan, everyone. Then the archdemon . . . flung something at me. I looked down, and saw it was . . . what was left of . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say it, but his arms tightened around Ayla, desperate to keep her safe.

"It was me, wasn't it?" Ayla asked softly, pulling back to look up at him, touching his face gently.

He nodded, swallowing convulsively. "I – I woke up after that."

Aedan nodded slowly. "It sounds like the same one I just had, more or less."

"What, you mean . . . even that part at the end?" Alistair stared at him in confusion as Aedan nodded. "But that doesn't make sense. We should only share the part where the archdemon talks to the horde."

"I think . . ." Aedan hesitated, then continued, "I think that last part was the archdemon talking to us. Taunting us, basically. 'Here's what I'll do to your friends, you're all going to die'."

"Oh, great. Well, it would seem we have its attention," Alistair said sarcastically. "I didn't even know it could do that."

"What are you two talking about?" Ayla pulled all the way back from Alistair to look between the two of them. "Do you two dream about the archdemon often? Why doesn't it send dreams to the rest of us? We're all going after it, aren't we?"

Alistair hesitated, looking at Aedan. He nodded in response. "You might as well tell her. I think we owe her that much. I'll take the watch for now; I don't think I can sleep for a while anyway." Aedan walked away, leaving the two of them alone in Alistair's tent.

"Well?" Ayla looked at him expectantly. "What is it that you have to tell me? That the archdemon somehow talks to the two of you?"

Alistair shook his head slowly, trying to think of how to explain it. "Not exactly. It's to do with us being Grey Wardens. Do you remember how I told you that the Joining changes our bodies?" When she nodded, he went on, "Well, it's because we take the taint into us. We . . . deliberately drink the blood of darkspawn, magically enhanced somehow, and become tainted. There's not a lot of people who make it out of the Joining alive."

Ayla was watching him, her expression frustratingly unreadable. "I take it this helps you fight the darkspawn somehow?"

He nodded. "We can sense the darkspawn with enough practice, so we know where they are and when they're coming, how many of them there are. We also seem to be faster, stronger, better able to recover from wounds. And the most important part of it is that we are able to use the taint in us to defeat the archdemon. Only Grey Wardens can do it, so only we can truly end the Blight."

She raised her eyebrows. "How? How do you use it to defeat the archdemon?"

"I –" Alistair paused, suddenly realizing he didn't actually know. All he knew was that Duncan had told him they used the taint. He'd never actually gone into detail. "I don't know. Duncan . . . never got around to telling me that."

She nodded, but he could tell that she was wondering just how they were supposed to defeat the archdemon now, just like he was. "So these dreams are some kind of side effect?"

He snorted. "I guess you could say that. We get a few wonderful things in exchange for our ability to defeat the darkspawn. The dreams are one; we hear the archdemon when it speaks to the horde, and we feel it, just like they do. With enough practice, you can block them, I'm told, but I haven't been able to do it so far."

He hesitated, watching her, wondering if he should tell her the rest. Well, if she was going to be involved with him at all, it was only fair that she should know. "We also don't have to worry about dying of old age. The taint gets even those of us that survive the Joining eventually; I've got about 30 years left, give or take. And it makes it very difficult for us to have children, or so I've been told."

She was still watching him, but he couldn't tell what she thought. There was sympathy on her face, but there was something else there too. Guilt, maybe? That didn't make any sense, though. What could she have to feel guilty about? "I'm . . . sorry, Alistair," she said at last. "That's just . . . horrible. I can't imagine what you all must go through. But you say this . . . taunting, as Aedan called it, is new?"

He reached for her, a little scared that she would refuse now that she knew everything about what he was, but she went into his arms again willingly and he hugged her close as he thought about the dream. "Duncan never mentioned anything about the archdemon being able to talk to us directly. Maybe it never has before. It could be because there's only two of us that it's easier to get at us, I don't know. But yes, that's . . . new." He chuckled hollowly as the image of a lifeless Ayla flashed before his eyes again. "And what a wonderful surprise that was."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "That must have been . . . horrifying. Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I doubt it. Why don't you go sleep, and I'll join Aedan on watch. Maybe eventually one of us can try to go back to sleep."

She looked up at him, frowning. "Are you sure you don't want to try? I can go back on watch, I don't mind."

"No, I don't think I even want to try." He got to his feet, pulling her up with him, and reaching for his sword and shield. The two of them left the tent.

She turned to go to her tent, but turned abruptly back. "Thank you for telling me about the Grey Wardens. I think you're all incredibly brave." She went up on her toes to kiss him again quickly before turning and leaving.

He watched her go for a minute, marvelling at how easily she'd somehow made him feel better already. Was it any wonder he was falling for her? He didn't know what he'd do if that dream came true. He went and joined Aedan on watch, trying very hard not to think about the dream anymore. But neither he nor Aedan got any more sleep that night.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They reached Redcliffe Castle the next day in the middle of the afternoon. Morrigan was already waiting outside the castle walls for them. Alistair had no idea how she'd managed to know they were coming before anybody else did.

"Here you are at last," she said caustically, throwing her hands up in the air. "I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost."

Aedan flashed her a grin. "Worried about me, were you?"

Morrigan snorted. "Hardly. I was merely wanting to leave this place as soon as possible." She noticed Zevran and Wynne and her eyes narrowed. "Picked up more strays, I see?"

"I suppose you could say that." Aedan turned and gestured to Wynne. "Wynne, this is Morrigan, a mage and one of our fellow companions. Morrigan, this is Wynne, a mage of the Circle who decided to lend us her healing powers. And this is . . ."

"Zevran, my ravishing beauty, at your service." Zevran had suddenly appeared before Morrigan and was bowing low. "I am available to help you with anything if you so . . . desire."

"And he's the lecherous elven assassin we didn't kill for some reason," Alistair finished for Aedan. Since Zevran was still driving him insane with his incessant flirting with Ayla, he secretly hoped that the elf would transfer his affections to Morrigan. Then, if he was lucky, maybe Morrigan would kill him or turn him into a frog.

"I desire nothing from you, elf," Morrigan sneered. "Now begone."

"Anyway," Aedan interjected, pushing his way between the two of them, "how did everything go while we were gone?"

They all began making their way inside the castle while Morrigan explained what had happened while they'd been away. She and Jowan had been able to keep Connor under control until Irving and the other Circle mages had arrived. They'd then begun the ritual, and apparently Morrigan herself had gone into the Fade and confronted the demon, saying she hadn't trusted anyone else to be able to do it. She'd succeeded in killing it inside the Fade, and Connor had awakened none the wiser. Irving and the other mages had left to go back to the Circle this morning, and everybody was now merely awaiting their return. Sten and Striker were currently out hunting out of sheer boredom, apparently.

When they entered the main hall of the castle, they found Teagan and Isolde waiting there for them. After exchanging greetings, Aedan proceeded to ask how Connor was.

"He seems to be his old self," Teagan replied. "He does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing. I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle of Magi's tower for . . . training, once the war is over. It's so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things. Eamon has much to mourn and rebuild, should he recover. But at least he can be thankful that both his son and wife are safe."

Lady Isolde smiled and bowed to Aedan. "I owe you my deepest thanks. I had nearly . . . I can scarcely believe Connor is the boy he once was."

"There is still the matter of Jowan," Teagan continued before Aedan could reply. "His poisoning Eamon began this whole mess, yet he lives. I must decide what becomes of him. We will hold him for Eamon to decide his fate. If he doesn't recover, Jowan's fate is sealed. What do you think?"

Aedan frowned, running a hand through his hair as he considered and everyone looked on. "I think that is probably best for now. He did help us, but he also set in motion an incredible amount of damage. And if Eamon doesn't live, I don't think there is any way he can redeem himself. Do as you like with him."

Teagan nodded. "Very well. I shall have the mage imprisoned again for now. But our task is not done yet. Whatever the demon did to my brother, it seems to have spared his life . . . but he remains comatose. We cannot wake him."

What? Alistair thought. After everything they'd gone through, they still hadn't succeeded in saving Eamon? What would they do if he didn't recover? They couldn't possibly face Loghain without him.

"The Urn!" Lady Isolde cried. "The Urn of Sacred Ashes will save Eamon!"

Aedan raised his eyebrows skeptically and crossed his arms. "The Urn is a legend, is it not? What makes you think it will ever be found?"

"There's a possibility it won't, but there is a reason it's still an option. I am not simply grasping at straws," Teagan informed them.

Lady Isolde stepped forward, staring seriously at Aedan. "My husband funded the research of a scholar in Denerim – a Brother Genitivi. He has been studying the inscriptions on Andraste's Birth Rock. When Eamon fell ill, I sent the knights to speak to Genitivi. I hoped that he had finally discovered the location of the Urn itself. They were unable to locate Genitivi. In desperation, I sent more knights in search of the brother or some clue of the Urn's location."

Alistair watched Aedan, wondering what he would do. Did he actually think it was possible to find the Urn, or worth their time to search for it? There was still so much that they had to do. After a long moment of consideration, Aedan nodded. "I will see if I can find this Genitivi, to start with. If he's found something useful, I will attempt to find the relic."

Teagan nodded, both his and Isolde's faces lighting up with relief. "No one else can. Even if I wished to do it myself, I cannot abandon Redcliffe to its own devices. Perhaps you could seek out the brother's home in Denerim and see if any clues remain on his whereabouts. It is the only place to begin the search, I think. I must continue with the rebuilding. You are welcome to stay here for the night, if you wish. I wish you luck, and may the Maker go with you."

"I think it would be best if we could stay here for the night, and we will set out for Denerim in the morning," Aedan said, looking up at Lady Isolde. "If you wouldn't mind getting our rooms prepared, I'd like to confer with my companions."

"Of course!" Isolde exclaimed. She bustled from the main hall, waving for servants, who followed her up the stairs.

Aedan led them outside to the courtyard, where he turned to address them all. "I think it would be a good idea to go through the Brecilian forest on our way to Denerim. If we happen to come across the trail of the Dalish, we will go find them first and see about getting them to join us. If we don't see anything immediately obvious, we'll continue heading north to Denerim. I'd like to see what the situation is in Denerim, anyway, and we can get some better equipment there. Does anyone object?"

Morrigan snorted loudly. "I think 'tis foolishness to go looking for the ashes of a dead woman. Even did you find them, 'tis no guarantee they would actually heal the man."

"But think how incredible it would be if we did find the ashes of Andraste Herself!" Leliana exclaimed.

"I would have to say I agree with Morrigan," Ayla said, shrugging. "It does sound a bit like they are grasping at straws to heal Arl Eamon. Sorry, Alistair," she added.

He smiled down at her. "Don't worry about it. As much as I want the Arl to live, I think it's a bit of a wild goose chase myself."

Aedan nodded thoughtfully, looking at Wynne and Zevran, who shook their heads, apparently not comfortable enough in the group yet to offer opinions. "I'm inclined to agree, actually. But as I said, I'd like to go to Denerim anyway. And if we don't find anything useful at this Genitivi's place, I won't bother continuing the search. We'll continue on with collecting aid for the Blight, and we'll have to hope that Teagan can fill in for his brother."

Alistair sighed. He sincerely hoped that they would find something useful in Denerim, as much as he doubted it. He'd also have to find a chance to ask Aedan if he could visit his sister while they were there. "Well, when you put it that way, it does sound like the best plan. I think we should go through the Brecilian Forest on the way, as well."

Everyone else nodded in agreement. "All right, it's settled," Aedan declared. "We'll leave for the Brecilian Forest in the morning. Try to get some rest in a real bed while you have the chance, everyone. It'll be a long time before we see another one."

They all split up, and Alistair made his way back inside the castle with Ayla to find some food. He was sincerely hoping that the worst was over. Maybe their luck had finally changed, and they would find the Dalish, gain their support, and get the information they needed for the Urn. If Ayla was there with him, he thought, he felt sure he could do anything.


	16. Shapeshifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a battle with darkspawn, Ayla's final secret is revealed to the rest of the party members. Chapter is a split POV - begins with Ayla and continues with Alistair after the break.

Chapter 16: Shapeshifter

She was feeling guilty. She'd been feeling that way ever since Alistair had told her all about his Grey Warden abilities a few nights ago. They'd been back on the road for a couple of days now since leaving Redcliffe, and she still hadn't come up with the courage to reveal her own powers to him. He'd even talked to her and Aedan that night at Redcliffe about Goldanna, revealing that she really was his half-sister that he'd never actually met before, and that he'd like to visit her when they got to Denerim if they had enough time. So it was likely that he'd now confided every secret about himself to her, and she still couldn't bring herself to say anything.

She knew why she was having so much trouble with it, of course. She was scared of how he'd react once he found out what she could do. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had someone not hate her or fear her after finding about her shifting abilities, other than someone who was a shifter themselves. How could she honestly expect Alistair to be any different?

She wanted him to react differently, though. Her feelings for him were beginning to confuse her, becoming as contrasting as he himself was at times. Most of the time she only felt that flaming desire when he touched her, but the other night after his nightmare when he'd pulled her in so tightly, she'd felt safe in a way she hadn't since her father had held her when she was a little girl. When she'd first realized that, her mind had skittered away from the thought in shock. She didn't even want to consider what that might mean.

Even less did she want to think about how she'd wanted to stay with him, not to bed him but merely to hold him in her arms and comfort him so he could sleep. She didn't want to think about how terrified he'd looked when he confessed to seeing her dead in his dream, or how she was beginning to worry that she might end up experiencing that same terror. She didn't want to think about how much she'd miss him if he wasn't around, how she was becoming more determined than ever to stay in Ferelden if at all possible, rather than go home. She didn't want to have any of these feelings; they would made her weak, vulnerable.

As a result of these conflicting feelings and her reluctance to tell him her last secret, she'd been avoiding being alone with him for the last few days. As much as she'd like to repeat that little performance on the riverbank from the other night, and then some, she knew that she wouldn't be able to enjoy herself properly until she told him, especially since she'd made a vow to herself that she would next time they were alone. It had been easy enough to avoid him, though, what with all the people in their party now.

She'd spent the last couple of nights spending time with everybody but Alistair, hunting with Morrigan, singing and dancing with Leliana, even talking to Zevran. She'd peppered him with questions about the country he was from and the Crows, being curious about both anyway. He'd been happy to answer all her questions and regale her with stories of his adventures, though she could tell she was only getting the bright and happy version. He'd also been relatively normal, only flirting her with the once, and she admitted that had been her fault. She really should have known better than to ask him what exactly it was that he fancied. He had of course responded in his usual suave, charming manner, saying at the end that he fancied her. She'd brushed his comment off, of course, as she'd done all the others, steering the conversation back to safer waters.

Until that moment, when she'd caught the heat in his eyes when he looked at her, she hadn't really thought he was serious when he flirted with her. Sure, she had no doubt he would have bedded her had she wanted him to, but she'd had the distinct feeling he would bed pretty much anyone. She'd also thought he flirted with her in public just as much to get a rise out of Alistair as for any other reason. Which she was still pretty sure was true; but she could also tell that his interest was at least somewhat serious.

But she'd told Alistair the truth when she'd said she wasn't interested in Zevran, which actually surprised her as much as anyone. Before she'd met Alistair, Zevran was exactly the sort of man she would have normally gone for; handsome, charming, funny, uninterested in complications, and skilled in more ways than one. If she'd had that fight with him in the past, it would have ended up coming to a completely different conclusion.

It used to be after having a stimulating battle like that, that nearly any attractive man would serve her purposes, as wanton as it sounded. Most especially the one who'd caused her to have a stimulating battle like that, if she knew she could trust him not to kill her afterwards, which her instincts had told her that Zevran wouldn't. But this time, instead of wanting to jump Zevran after the fight was over, she'd just wanted Alistair more than ever. She didn't understand it at all; it was different from anything she'd experienced before.

She hadn't bothered to fight it that night, though, and she'd dragged Alistair off for their first real tryst. Though she'd meant to be a little less obvious than that, when she'd seen how sexy he looked when he was furious with Zevran, she hadn't been able to help herself. Something in her really liked this jealous, possessive side of him that Zevran brought out, as bad as that probably was of her. For an inexperienced virgin, he'd turned out to have surprisingly good instincts; she shuddered when she remembered the feel of his mouth on her. Once he got more experienced, she was certain he would make her go up in flames with little effort at all. And Goddess, that bare chest of his! She felt heat swamp her at the memory; it'd been even more defined than she'd thought it would be, all taut muscle, sculpted abs, and bare, gleaming skin. She'd never seen a man so well defined; it was likely due to all that armor he wore, and she couldn't wait to see what he looked like completely naked.

So she'd spent the last few nights torn between the desire to drag him off to have more fun, especially when she saw the look in his eyes when he saw her with Zevran, and the fear of both her complicated feelings for him and of telling him what she knew she eventually had to.

But it was time to stop being a coward. She was going to tell him tonight, and that was that. If he reacted badly, so much the better. It might succeed in squashing the more tender feelings that she didn't want to have for him. No amount of logic and trying to defend her heart from him seemed to be working so far; if he reacted the way she expected him to, maybe that would finally do it.

She'd just come to that decision when Alistair suddenly shouted, "Darkspawn!" Jerking her head up, she noticed that the group had halted on the dirt road that they'd been following towards the Brecilian Forest for most of the warm, sunny afternoon. Darkspawn were descending on them from all sides, appearing from among the trees and hills around them.

They all drew their weapons, and following Aedan's instructions, grouped themselves in a loose semi-circle, keeping their backs towards each other as the darkspawn advanced. Once they were close enough, Aedan gave the signal, and the fight began.

It went much the same as it usually did; Aedan, Alistair, and Sten took the brunt of the attacks and attention upon themselves, allowing herself, Zevran and Striker to take advantage of the distractions they caused to wreak havoc. Meanwhile, Morrigan, Wynne and Leliana used their long-range abilities to help pick off any remaining threats.

The amount of darkspawn, however, was more this time than there had ever been previously. They seemed to keep appearing from the hills all around them, and in no time, any semblance of a formation the group might have had disintegrated into an individual free-for-all, spreading them apart from each other wider and wider as they tried to keep the numbers of darkspawn down.

That was when it happened. Ayla finished off the genlock in front of her and looked around her. She spotted Alistair several yards away, engaged in fierce battle with a rather large hurlock. His back was to her, and unfortunately, his back was also to the genlock emissary aiming a spell at it. Even if he knew the emissary was there, she didn't think he'd be able to take his attention off the hurlock in front of him, at least, not soon enough to make a difference. No one else was close enough to help him but her, and there was only one way that she'd be able to reach the emissary in time.

Her decision was made before she'd even thought it out. She took a few running steps and shifted in mid-air as she leaped, the change wrenching its way through her body. A large black panther landed with bruising force on the emissary, tackling it out of the way just in time for the searing bolt of electricity to shoot wide of Alistair. With a swipe of her powerful claws, she opened the emissary up from neck to waist, then snapped its neck with a quick twist of her jaws, being careful not to break the skin.

As soon as it was dead, she turned her head to check for Alistair. He had just finished off the Hurlock and had turned in her direction, staring at her - no, at the panther, she corrected herself. His sword and shield were up, and he was wide-eyed as he took a few cautious steps forward. She struggled, at war with herself. Her human side knew that Alistair wouldn't strike if he knew it was her, but her animal side only saw the threat of his sword and stance, and wanted to bristle and growl at him, returning the threat in kind. She could already feel her fur along her back and tail puffing up, and the struggle was making it too difficult to concentrate on shifting back to her normal self.

"Do not fire, idiot bard!" Morrigan's voice cut across the distance. "'Tis Ayla, not a wild animal!"

Alistair's head snapped in Morrigan's direction, then back to Ayla. His jaw dropped, disbelief written across his features as his sword and shield lowered. The combination of the reduced threat and Morrigan's voice allowed Ayla to pull control back to her human side, and she seized upon the opportunity to shift back.

It took only about thirty seconds or so for the sharp pain and disorientation following the shift to clear, but that was long enough for Aedan, Morrigan, and Leliana to have made their way over to where she and Alistair were. The others were still far afield from them, having been separated quite a ways by the other darkspawn, still finishing their battles. Aedan, Leliana, and Alistair were all staring at her with utter shock on their faces. Morrigan, of course, was the only one who didn't look the least bit surprised. Instead, she was studying the others as if to gauge their reactions.

Ayla knew she should explain, but the words didn't seem to want to come. Now that they were all looking at her that way, as if they couldn't even believe what they'd just seen, she was filled with panic. What if they decided they wouldn't be safe with a wild animal like her around? Where would she go? What would she do? What was for some reason a more painful and disturbing thought than all the others flitted across her brain: What if Alistair didn't want her anymore?

"What are you?" Alistair whispered, his voice laced with shock.

The hurt swamped her first, like a pommel-strike to the gut, but before she could drown in it, she was saved by a rising tide of anger. How dare he react like that? "What am I? What am I?! I am exactly who I have always been, just Ayla! I am a warrior, not a mage, or an abomination, or a demon!" When she almost roared that last part out, and felt her eyes flash through the change briefly, she knew she needed to get away before she lost control. She whirled on her heels and ran, shifting after she was a few steps away, and the boost of speed that gave her had her far away from them in no time at all.

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He wasn't quite sure what had happened. One moment, he'd been in an intense battle with a hurlock that was far stronger than most others he'd ever encountered. Though he knew there was another genlock behind him, and he could vaguely feel it gathering magic, he'd known that he wouldn't be able to do anything if it was intending to fire at him, unless he wanted the hurlock to succeed in killing him. But then he'd heard a loud crash behind him, and the spell had shot past him, giving him the chance to finish off the hurlock.

When he'd turned around to see what had happened, there had been a panther behind him, and it had started bristling at him. He hadn't been sure what to do; he hadn't wanted to provoke it, but neither had he wanted to be unprepared if it decided to leap at him as it apparently had the emissary. Then he'd had the shock of his life when he'd heard Morrigan shouting that it was Ayla, and sure enough, before his very eyes, the panther's body had shimmered, wavered, and changed until his beautiful Ayla had been standing in its place.

He had never seen anything like it before in his life, and he hadn't been able to make any sense of it. He'd heard that certain mages could change form, and he knew from Aedan that Morrigan could do it, though he'd never actually seen her. But Ayla wasn't a mage; he'd never sensed the slightest bit of magic coming from her. So he had no idea how she'd done it, and apparently, he'd said exactly the wrong thing, just blurting out the first thing that came to his mind when he'd finally found his tongue again.

She'd looked so hurt at his reaction, before anger had swept across her face and she'd yelled at him, almost roared, really, her eyes flashing a feline yellow at him, before suddenly fleeing. He'd started to go after her as soon as his addled brain had processed what was happening, but when she'd changed into the panther again, he'd known he would never be able to catch up, so he'd stopped.

Now, he turned around and looked at Morrigan, just as Aedan and Leliana were. She'd obviously known about it, and he needed somebody to explain what had just happened to him.

"Care to give us an explanation for that, Morrigan?" Aedan echoed his thoughts as he crossed his arms and regarded Morrigan thoughtfully.

Morrigan rolled her eyes before sighing in exasperation. "What is there to explain? You saw it for yourself; Ayla has the ability to shapeshift. It is a tool, a power, as any other, to be used for one's advantage in battle."

"Yes, she has the ability, but how does she do it?" Aedan pressed. "She's not a mage, as you are, is she?"

Morrigan shook her head. "She is not. I could not explain to you how she does it. From what she has told me, it is an ability possessed by many warriors in her land, not requiring the use of magical ability. I can take as many forms as I wish; however she is limited to just the one. That is really all I know about the matter."

"But why did she not tell the rest of us?" Leliana asked, staring in the direction that Ayla had gone. "Why did she keep it hidden from everyone but you?" Once again, exactly what Alistair wanted to know; he was grateful that Aedan and Leliana seemed to be reading his mind, since he was still too shocked to articulate his feelings.

Morrigan snorted. "She did not tell me, I found out on my own when I came upon her in the woods. Why would she tell any of you would be the better question. Clearly she feared what your reaction would be, with good reason. We are all aware how that Chantry of yours views those with unusual abilities as abominations that need to be locked up and guarded. I am sure she merely wished to not have the same thing happen to her."

"What are you talking about?" Leliana exclaimed. "The Chantry would not unjustly lock someone up! And we would not do anything like that to our friend and companion!"

"Oh?" Morrigan merely raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You and I must be thinking of a very different Chantry, then. One that does not corral mages up like mindless cattle for the slaughter."

Alistair could only stare at Morrigan, feeling guilt rising in him. She hadn't said anything because she'd been afraid of how they would react. He suddenly remembered what she'd said in Redcliffe about wanting to be seen as just herself. And instead of accepting her as just Ayla, he'd gone and asked her what she was, as though she were a thing and not a person. How could he have said such a thing to her?

"Enough!" Aedan stated, coming between Morrigan and Leliana, as the two were beginning to glare murderously at each other as Leliana sputtered in response to Morrigan's accusations. "We don't need this to descend into a religious argument. I can understand why Ayla might feel the need to hide her abilities, but I personally do not have a problem with them. Do you, Leliana?" When she shook her head no, he turned to Alistair. "Do you have a problem with it, Alistair?"

"Maker, no!" Alistair exclaimed, grateful that he could finally speak again. "I – I didn't mean that to come out the way it did. I was just . . . shocked. I'd never seen anything like that before, and I know she's not a mage, so I didn't know how she did it. I . . . need to apologize to her, to explain."

"Hmph." Morrigan glared at him. "You had better, fool Templar, because she revealed her powers to us in order to save you."

Alistair once again felt wretchedly guilty as he realized the truth of Morrigan's words; Ayla must have thought it was the only way she could keep the emissary from hitting him with the spell. And instead of being grateful, he'd gone and said something stupid, again, and hurt her badly in the process. "Please, Morrigan, can you go after her? I need to talk to her."

"I can, but I will not," Morrigan snapped.

"Morrigan . . ." Aedan said warningly.

She threw her hands up in the air. "I will not because she requires time alone to regain control! She will come find us when she is ready. You need not worry about leaving her behind; she can track us easily if need be."

"So, we are just to leave her behind?" Leliana asked uncertainly.

Aedan sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. They could hear the sounds of the others getting closer. "It would seem we have little choice. We are not anywhere near a good place to camp at the moment, and it will be dark in a few more hours. Morrigan is likely right that we should leave her alone, anyway. We'll have to convince her that we're not going to turn against her because of her abilities when she comes back." He looked significantly at Alistair, who nodded unhappily, realizing that they had little choice.

As the others came up to them, Zevran called out cheerfully, "Ah, I see one lovely redhead, but not the other one! Where has my deadly goddess gone to?"

Alistair felt jealous rage bubble up in him again; Ayla had been spending time in the elf's company the last few nights, and not with him. Though they had never left his sight, and appeared to be merely talking, he hadn't been able to squelch his doubts that she would suddenly decide Zevran was far more interesting than he. He growled and started forward, but Aedan smacked him in the chest, knocking him back.

"Cool it, Alistair," Aedan snapped, eyes flashing silver. "Now is not the time." Alistair stepped back, surprised, as Aedan turned to the others and proceeded to explain just what had happened.

Wynne looked faintly disturbed and thoughtful. Alistair had expected Sten to react badly, knowing the qunari's feelings about mages that were one of the few things he'd devote an actual sentence to, but surprisingly, the qunari seemed undisturbed, looking almost interested. Zevran looked intrigued, and when Aedan asked the others if any of them had issues with continuing to travel with Ayla, everyone shook their heads no, Zevran being the most emphatic about it.

They continued on their way after that, Alistair being left alone to wallow in his guilt as they walked. Though it was many hours later and nearly dark by the time they made camp, Ayla still hadn't returned. By the time they'd all tidied up and eaten, she still was not back, and Alistair was beginning to get seriously worried. What if something had happened to her out there? Morrigan, however, insisted that there was no need to be worried, and she would only go looking for Ayla if she wasn't back by morning. Though Aedan was supposed to have first watch, Alistair offered to trade, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep until she got back, anyway, and Aedan nodded, before everyone left to go sleep in their tents.

It was probably about two hours later, after Alistair had made several circuits of the perimeter and was sitting on a flat boulder he'd found, scanning the area around him, when he finally saw her. She approached slowly, finally coming into the ring of light cast by his lamp, staying several feet away from him. She looked exhausted and almost . . . defeated. Her shoulders were slumped and her green eyes lacked their usual amused sparkle.

"Ayla," he said softly, relieved to see that she was all right. "You came back."

Her gaze dropped from his. "Yes, well, it's not exactly like I had anywhere else to go, is it?" His heart wrenched in his chest at the bitter way she said that, almost as if she expected that they – that he – would turn her away. Didn't she know that he would never be able to do that?

He stood up, wanting to go to her, but knowing that she probably wouldn't accept that right now, he stayed where he was. "Ayla, I . . . need to apologize."

She eyed him warily. "You do?"

He nodded firmly. "I . . . didn't mean what I said the way that it must have sounded to you. I was in shock. I'd never seen anything like that before, and I knew you weren't a mage. I didn't know how it was possible. I more meant that as how you were able to do that, not . . . the way it came out. I know you aren't an abomination, or a demon." He met her eyes, silently pleading with her to believe him.

She crossed her arms defensively, her body posture still tense, though he thought he saw a spark of hope in her eyes. "So you aren't . . . disgusted by me, or frightened by me? You don't think I'm . . . a wild animal?"

"By Andraste, of course not!" He shook his head vigorously, his heart wrenching again at the thought that she'd actually believed he could think any of those things about her. "I think you're the most . . . amazing and beautiful woman I've ever met, and I hope you can forgive me for ever being stupid enough to say something that made you think otherwise." He was blushing furiously now, he knew.

She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock, as he knew his must have been when he'd seen her change. "I . . . yes, I forgive you. I know I . . . probably overreacted a little to what you said, too. I'm a little oversensitive about it, since most people react badly when they find out. I was with one man when I was at court with my cousins, once." Her gaze shifted away from his again, and she bit her lip.

"He thought I was a regular noblewoman, but once he found out I was from the Order, that I was a shifter, he suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. It's . . . been the same with anyone who wasn't a shifter themselves. None of them wanted anything to do with me or the other shifters." She was wrapping her arms around herself more tightly now, as if to give herself comfort from the memory.

Alistair finally closed the distance between them, unable to take the fact that she was obviously in pain from her memory, and he pulled her into his arms, relieved when she went willingly, resting her head against his chest. "Well, I'm not a . . . shapeshifter, did you call it? But I still want something to do with you." I want everything to do with you, to stay with you, always, was what he wanted to say, but he didn't think that was something she wanted to hear just yet. "And so does everybody else. We all want you to stay with us."

"Really?" She looked up at him, surprise, relief, and joy intermingling on her face, shining out of her eyes. "No one has an issue with me being a shifter? No one wants me to leave?"

"Of course not. If we let a bitchy Witch of the Wilds, who can also shapeshift, an elven assassin, and a murderous Qunari stay with us, how can we possibly have a problem with you?" he teased her, squeezing her waist.

She laughed softly at that, making his heart feel lighter than it had in hours. "I suppose you have a point."

"Occasionally, I do." He winked at her before sobering. "You know, I was beginning to worry that you had a problem with me. It . . . sort of seemed like you'd been avoiding me since I told you about the Wardens. I mean, if anything, you should be frightened and disgusted by me. At least you don't have a taint in your blood, or an archdemon talking to you in your sleep."

"Ah." She looked suddenly guilty. "I was avoiding you, but not for the reasons you think. I'm not disgusted or frightened by your Warden abilities, at all. I think you're amazingly brave for doing all that to protect others." She stood on her tiptoes to press a quick, fierce kiss to his lips, which sent a fiery thrill through him, before she pulled back. "I felt guilty that after you'd confessed everything to me, I still hadn't told you about my own powers. I made a vow to myself that I would as soon as we were alone, and well . . . I was letting myself be a coward about it."

"Oh." He looked down at her, surprised and relieved. He would never have thought her to be the type to be nervous about anything, but he realized now why she would have been. And it was very gratifying to hear that she'd been avoiding him because she was afraid to tell him something, not because she suddenly wanted Zevran and not him. "So . . . you still want something to do with me, then?"

"Very much so." She was grinning wickedly at him again, which, as always, made him both blushing and aroused within seconds. "I'd like to show you just how much, now that we're finally alone, but I'm exhausted. When I spend too much time shifted, it takes a lot out of me. That's why we only use it when there's a pressing need."

And he could see that, in spite of the fact that she no longer looked defeated, she was still exhausted. Her face was drawn with weariness. "About that," he murmured huskily in her ear, loving the fact that she shivered, "I never got to thank you yet for saving me."

"Oh?" She looked up at him, her green eyes suddenly blazing with desire as she licked her lips. He let out a strangled groan as the motion sent a shaft of lust through him. "Do I get a . . . reward for my timely rescue?"

He leaned closer, nipping lightly at her earlobe, pleased when she let out a low moan in response. "I might . . . have something in mind. But it'll have to be later," he said regretfully, still blushing and a little surprised at his own boldness, as he pulled back a little. "I am on watch, you know, and if you distract me like this, I won't be watching anything but you."

"That's the idea." She winked at him in response, before sighing, "But you are right, of course. I'd rather be fully recovered, anyway, for whatever you have in mind. I'll go rest and let you finish your watch."

He gathered her up, kissing her hard and swiftly before setting her back down. "Later," he promised her.

She nodded, before looking behind him at the ring of tents. "My tent isn't up, is it?"

"Oh." He frowned, realizing that he'd been so caught up in his guilt and worry for her, he hadn't thought to set it up for her. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't think of it. You . . ." he hesitated. "You can use mine. If you want, that is, just to – just to sleep in. I'll just . . . sleep, too, when my watch is done."

She tilted her head, studying him. He'd lost much of his newfound boldness at the thought of her in his tent, and felt like a bumbling fool after tripping over his words like that, which of course was nothing new around her. "All right. Just to sleep in. For now. Later, we'll have to find a much better use for it." She smiled slyly at him before slipping past him and making her way to his tent.

He stared after her, gaping and blushing as his mind went to all the "better uses" they could put his tent to. He went painfully hard, his arousal pushing against the confines of his armor, as the images flashed through his brain. He shook his head as she disappeared into his tent, and forced himself to focus. He was on watch, he reminded himself sternly, he couldn't afford to be distracted like this.

He went back to patrolling the perimeter, and by using the discipline of his Templar training techniques, was able to get himself back under control and focus on keeping watch for the remainder of his shift. Finally, Leliana came to relieve him. "Did she come back yet?" the bard yawned.

Alistair smiled. "She did, and she accepted my apology. I think everything's okay now."

"Good," Leliana smiled in response. "Now, go get some sleep, Alistair. You look exhausted."

He realized he was rather tired, after all the excitement and worry of the day, so he nodded, bidding Leliana good night as he headed for his tent. Knowing there wasn't a whole lot of room in the tent, he took his armor off at the entrance, setting it down as quietly as he could, noticing that Ayla's armor was piled there as well. Her swords were not, however. He left his shield with his armor, but to be on the safe side, brought his sword in with him as well. He usually kept it nearby in the tent anyway.

She was curled up on her side on the pallet when he quietly slipped inside. He could barely make her out in the darkness of the tent as he laid his sword down carefully before settling himself down in the space she'd left for him. She was sleeping soundly; though she rolled over and curled up next to him, flinging her arm over his chest, she didn't wake up. He pulled the edge of the blanket over top of himself, and slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little tighter to his side. She looked so peaceful in her sleep that he felt only warmth and contentment at the moment, not the usual raging fire. In no time, he'd fallen asleep next to her. He had no nightmares that night, sleeping better than he ever had since joining the Wardens.


	17. Finding the Dalish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla discusses her shifter nature with the others; Alistair gives her a "reward" for saving him; the party goes in search of the Dalish in the Brecilian Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter also contains some smut, it begins after the first chapter break. Skip down to the following break if you don't want to read it.**

Chapter 17: Finding The Dalish

When Ayla awoke the next morning, it took her a little while before she remembered just exactly where she was, and why she was so warm and comfortable. She remembered going to sleep in Alistair's tent, as her own wasn't up, and she'd fallen asleep long before he'd finished his watch, not even noticing when he'd joined her. That thought was a little disturbing for her; that wasn't something she ordinarily would have slept through. Had she really been so tired last night, or was it that her instincts that would normally have awoken her, felt that she was so completely safe with him that she didn't need to wake up?

Damn it all to the Pit, as if she needed another thing to puzzle out when it came to him. Whether he had intentionally done it when he'd arrived in the tent, or subconsciously done it in his sleep, he was completely wrapped her around now. She was on her side, her back pulled up tightly to his front, his chin resting atop her head, and one of his arms was wrapped tightly around her waist, while one of his legs was tangled in with hers. And though he was still sleeping, she could tell from the steady rhythm of his breathing and rate of his heart, he was also most definitely aroused. Which gave her the conflicting emotions of warm, comfortable, and safe, along with a steadily rising desire of her own.

She'd hoped yesterday that she would finally be rid of these conflicting emotions when it came to him. She'd almost expected to be relieved when she'd believed that he had reacted the way she'd expected him to, but she hadn't been. She had only been devastated and furious. When she'd run herself ragged and the fury had finally faded, she'd only felt numb and hollow. Eventually, she'd decided to go back, not knowing what else to do, fully expecting that they would turn her away, and maybe then she would feel relieved that she'd finally escaped from the tangle of feelings he evoked in her.

But then he'd done something she had never expected: apologized, sincerely. She'd seen it in his eyes, that he meant every word he said. The look in his eyes hadn't been the one she'd gotten used to from other people who discovered the truth about her; it was the same half-adoring, half-lustful look he'd always had for her. Then he'd been all sweet and sexy again, and well, Goddess, he'd pulled her right back into the tangled web of feelings she had for him, making the tangle even tighter if anything.

How was she supposed to fight the feelings now? She'd run out of possible methods or ways to get herself loose. Maybe . . . maybe it was just temporary. Yes, that had to be it. She'd just continue travelling with him and the others, spending time with him, enjoying herself, and eventually, these odd feelings would naturally fade away. In the meantime, she decided, she'd fully enjoy the one feeling that gave her no sense of conflict.

Experimentally, she arched her back against him and rubbed herself along his arousal, wondering if he'd wake up. Sure enough, his steady breathing hitched and the sound of his heartbeat picked up. His hand that was on her bare stomach drifted lower, and she felt the throbbing in her loins pick up as his hand brushed tantalizingly close. "Oh, Alistair, yes, right there," she gasped.

Suddenly, his hand jerked away and he was scrambling backwards away from her. She rolled over to look at him; he was sitting against the tent wall, face flaming, chest heaving, staring at her wide-eyed. "Maker, I'm sorry, Ayla," he exclaimed. "I-I didn't mean to . . ."

She bit back a sigh of disappointment. So, he hadn't wrapped himself around her intentionally, then. That was too bad, but at least his instincts proved that he wanted to. She knew it wouldn't be hard for her to seduce him right past any objections he might have, but she didn't want him to feel regret or shame later for any of it. "It's fine, Alistair. I was . . . quite comfortable, really." She winked at him as she sat up fully and stretched.

She heard him try to stifle a groan as he managed, "That's – that's good. Are you feeling all right this morning?"

She smiled. "Yes, thank you, I'm quite recovered." She was tempted to kiss him before she left the tent to get ready, but she knew it would be unfair to push him any further. He was trying so hard to hold himself back right now, and she was only in her smallclothes, since all of her other things had been in her main pack on the cart with Bodahn and she hadn't felt like trying to find them last night. Bodahn usually camped a fair distance away from their tents.

At any rate, Alistair's hazel eyes were fastened on her body right now, as though he couldn't look away, and they had that dark look in them that she so loved. She suspected that if she were to touch him right now, he'd lose all control. And it was so tempting to see what would happen, especially since he smelled so good, but . . . she sighed. She could wait, she reminded herself. "I'll go get dressed and start some breakfast."

He nodded jerkily as she grabbed her swords and made her way out of the tent. Her armor was still sitting at the entrance, along with Alistair's, though unlike her, he actually wore something underneath to keep it from chafing. She strapped her armor back on along with her swords, and made her way over to where the campfire was from last night. Aedan must have had the last watch, for he was already crouched by the fire, building it up.

He looked up as she approached and smiled slyly. "I take it Alistair must have apologized to you."

She grinned as she realized he must have seen her come out of Alistair's tent, and didn't bother to disabuse him of any notions he might have. "He did indeed." She hesitated a moment as she grabbed one of the pots nearby to begin making breakfast. "He said that you all are . . . fine with me staying?"

His smile faded as he sobered, nodding as he met her eyes. "It isn't a problem for me in the slightest. I'll tell you what I told Morrigan when she told me about her abilities: I think it sounds like a useful ability, and as far as I'm concerned, you are still a trusted companion. I've spoken to the others, and they are all fine with it. You don't need to worry."

She sighed in relief. She was glad that they all knew now, and she didn't need to hide anymore; even more, she was pleased that they had all taken it so well. She hadn't expected that anymore than she had expected Alistair to be okay with it. "Thank you, Aedan, that means a lot to me."

He shook his head, putting the finishing touches on the fire and lighting it with the tinder. "Think nothing of it. After all you've done to help us and how far we've come already, how could I possibly not trust you?"

"Thank you, all the same," she repeated firmly. "You can relax; I'll get breakfast started." She stood up, intending to head to the nearby stream to fill the pot with water. The sun was just now over the horizon, so there was plenty of early morning light to see by, and it still being summer, was decently warm even for that time of morning.

He grinned crookedly at her as he straightened up. "That's more like you don't trust me to cook something edible, right?"

"Well," Ayla shrugged, grinning back, "let's just say that I don't believe the Wardens are known for their cooking skills."

Aedan laughed, holding his hands up. "All right, I'll leave it to more capable hands."

She made her way to the nearby stream, following the sound of the rushing water, and filled the pot up. By the time she made it back to the fire, Alistair was outside the tent, strapping the last piece of his armor on. Aedan was taking down his own tent and packing up his supplies. "Good morning, Alistair." She smiled cheerfully at him as she hung the pot over the fire. She realized that she was feeling really good this morning, better even than she had in ages.

He smiled back, though he was still blushing. "Good morning. Do you need help?"

"No, no, just sit down and relax." She tossed him a chunk of cheese from the pack of food Aedan had already set down by the fire. He caught it and began to eat it as he sat down on a log by the fire, watching her put oats in the water.

He sat there watching her cook for a few moments in silence before he cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I . . . asked you a few questions about your abilities?"

She shook her head, tossing some salt in the water and stirring it in. "No, not at all, ask away. I'm sure you must be curious."

Aedan had come back over to the fire now, having packed away the last of his items, and she could hear the sounds of the others starting to stir. He sat down as well, watching her with curious eyes as she waited for Alistair's question.

"Well, Morrigan said that many warriors in your land have that ability, so I guess my biggest question would be . . . how do you all do it, if you're not mages?"

Ayla nodded slowly, trying to think of how best to put it in to words. "Yes, it's something that all the warriors in the Order can do. We undergo a ritual, much like you do, called the Kin Ritual. At the end of the ritual, the animal that is most like us, or kin to us, appears and challenges us. If we can hold our own against it in battle, the Goddess then gifts us with the ability to share its shape. We are only ever granted one shape, except in very rare cases. Anyone who wishes to join the Order must undergo and pass the Kin Ritual first, or they are not deemed worthy. I guess, in a way, it is magic, it's just not our magic, but that of the Goddess, instead."

"Hmm, fascinating," Aedan remarked, elbows on his knees as he watched her. "So how long can you stay in that shape? Morrigan can only stay changed as long as she has the magical power to do so."

"In our case, it's more like . . . lifeforce," Ayla decided. "However much power or stamina our own body can provide. The longer we stay shifted, the more exhausted we get. If we stay in the other form too long, we'd become so exhausted that we would be unable to move until we've slept for several hours. So we have to be careful how much we use it. We mostly rely on our weapons unless we're facing large amounts of enemies or need the extra burst of speed or strength provided."

"So yesterday," Alistair said slowly, studying his hands, "you used it to save me because you needed the speed?"

"Right," she nodded, smiling at him when he finally met her eyes. She could still traces of guilt in his eyes. Goddess, he was so honest! "As myself, I couldn't have reached the emissary in time. But as the panther, I'm so much faster, I was able to keep you from being hit."

"Thank you, again." He smiled at her warmly before continuing, "Do you get any interesting side effects like we do?"

"Well, there's a few," Ayla admitted, adding some more spices to the pot. "Nothing so bad as yours, I don't believe. There's the exhaustion, for one. There's also the pain that we feel every time we go through the change. With enough practice, we can shift fast enough that the pain is only brief, but it's always present. And if we don't use our powers for a long time, the pain might become so great we'd be unable to fully shift properly again. Then there's the issue of control. It can be . . . difficult, at times, to keep the animal inside us under control. We are . . . as much animal as we are human, sometimes." That was difficult for her to admit, but it was something she felt they had to know. "So if we are experiencing intense emotion, such as grief or rage, and we lose control, we might shift without even meaning to, and have no control over ourselves in the resulting change."

"That's why you left yesterday," Aedan guessed. "I saw your eyes change briefly, and Morrigan said you needed time to regain control."

"That's right," Ayla nodded in agreement, noting that Alistair looked guilty all over again. He needed to stop punishing himself about it; she had already forgiven him. "There's one more possible side effect, though I'm not sure if it's true or not. We may have reduced life spans, like you two do, since animals don't live as long as humans do. It's said to reduce more the more often we use our powers, as well, so it's another reason to be careful with them."

"How can you not be sure if that's true or not?" Alistair asked, looking confused.

She shrugged. "Well, for one, most of us die on the battlefield before we ever reach old age. Like . . . my father did. For another, it's not obvious when one of us dies if it is because of our powers or merely because it was our time. Not in the way yours is obvious, I would guess."

Alistair shook his head, his face shadowed. "No, I doubt it would be as obvious as when the taint tries to claim us." He looked up suddenly. "Is that why your hearing is so sharp?"

"Yes, that's one of the good side effects – well, most of the time." She winked at Aedan, who, for the first time since she'd met him, actually flushed, obviously realizing she was referring to him and Morrigan. "I have enhanced hearing, eyesight, and smell even without my changed form. So once we get to this Brecilian Forest, I should be able to find these Dalish elves for you without too much problem."

"Well, that's good to hear," Aedan replied, still a little red, as the others finally approached the fire. Ayla began to dish out the oats, while Aedan passed around bits of cheese and dried meat. "I would really prefer to have the Dalish on our side before we get to Denerim."

"Ah, my dear, I am pleased to see you have returned!" Zevran smiled at her as she passed him a bowl of oatmeal. "The journey would not be nearly so pleasant without you."

"Thank you, Zevran, I am glad to be back." She smiled back, glad to see that he meant it. The others all added their own greetings as well, ranging from Sten's grunt and nod to Leliana's hug, but they all seemed equally sincere in their own ways, for which she was very grateful.

"I do hope a certain idiot Templar apologized to you." Morrigan glared at Alistair, who didn't even bother to snap back at her as he usually did.

"Yes, he did," Ayla quickly intervened, "but it was as much my fault as anybody's. I didn't tell anyone before it happened, and then I overreacted to what he said. So let's just forget it about, shall we? Everything is fine now." She was pleased when Alistair looked up and smiled gratefully at her.

"Oh, very well then, if it does not bother you," Morrigan sniffed, "I will leave it alone." She went and sat next to Aedan, who whispered in her ear, "Did you know she could hear us?" to which Morrigan merely smiled and Ayla laughed, making him flush again.

"Uh, at any rate," Aedan said quickly, trying to recover his composure while everyone stared at him, "we should reach the edge of the Brecilian Forest by sometime tomorrow. Ayla says she can track the Dalish once we get there, so we should be able to locate them fairly easily. I think we should probably not bring everybody there, though, as too large a group might make them nervous. So we'll find a place in the forest to set up a base camp, and the others will stay there while Alistair and I set out with a few others. I think, at this point, I'd like to bring Ayla and Morrigan along so they can track them, and Zevran as well. Hopefully they'll be more comfortable with you."

Zevran shrugged. "I am happy to go along if you wish it, of course, but I doubt my presence would be of any help. The Dalish tend to view any elves that live among humans with more suspicion than the humans, at times."

Aedan frowned. "Well, nonetheless, I'd still like to bring you along. You said you did live among them for a short time, so you'll likely be able to help just with your knowledge alone."

"As you wish, my Warden friend," Zevran replied, turning back to his meal.

"Let's get going as soon as we can," Aedan continued. "When we arrive at the Forest, we'll find a good place to set up a base camp, and the five of us will go ahead from there. The others will stay there until we return from fulfilling the treaty."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and soon they were finished their meal, packing up the camp, and heading on their way to find the Brecilian Forest and the Dalish.

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True to Aedan's word, they hit the edge of the Brecilian Forest the following day in the early afternoon. It was an impressive forest, filled with large, old trees and numerous bits of vegetation, with only a few small, winding paths cutting through it here and there. Ayla picked up an unusual smell shortly after entering the forest that she couldn't quite place. It smelled almost like the other members of the Order would, in a way, like a mixture of human and animal, yet not quite at the same time. It was more animalistic, less natural. Something about the forest itself seemed a little off, as well.

She whispered her findings to Morrigan, who agreed that something didn't seem quite right about the forest, either, but neither of them could place it. Morrigan shifted into a bird to go scouting for a good place to set up their base camp. She returned within a couple of hours, after they'd gone deeper into the forest, and lead them to the area she'd found.

Once they reached it, Ayla had to agree with her assessment; it was a spacious clearing in the midst of several large trees, with a decent sized stream nearby for washing and eating. They proceeded to set up camp, and once they'd unloaded all their extra supplies from the cart, Bodahn set off to do trading with nearby villages, saying they could come find him once their business in the forest was done.

It was Leliana's turn to begin cooking supper, so she began setting up for that, while the rest of them set up their tents and began taking turns washing up at the stream. Ayla was one of the first to take her turn, and had just finished setting up her tent when Alistair returned from his washing up, with a bouquet of wildflowers that he handed her.

"You're giving me more flowers?" She asked him, unsure of quite how to react. They hadn't had a lot of time to spend alone together since that morning in his tent, and she had the feeling he'd been semi-avoiding her at camp last night. He'd spent a lot of the night talking to the others, Aedan among them, and she hadn't been able to overhear what they were saying. She wondered what had suddenly brought this on. "What are they for?"

He shrugged, looking suddenly nervous. "Because . . . I wanted to, and . . . they're the first part of your reward."

"Oh?" She smiled. So he'd been making plans and working up to something; how interesting. "What else did you have in mind?"

He took a quick look around the campsite, making sure nobody else was nearby, before whispering in her ear, "Something . . . we'd have to do somewhere a little more private."

Goddess! When he used that husky tone on her, it sent thrills all through her body down to her toes. She couldn't wait to see what he had in mind. "Come on then." She grabbed his hand, dragging him away from the campsite again, leaving the flowers behind just outside her tent.

She found a smaller clearing a few minutes away from the camp that felt safe, and turned to look at him, her body already humming with anticipation. "Show me what you had in mind."

He looked down at her for a moment, and she could see nervousness warring with desire on his face, so she solved his problem by pressing her body flush against him. His reaction didn't disappoint; his lips crashed down on hers fiercely as his arms went around her, hands gripping her bottom firmly as he pulled her hips into his. She gasped at the sensation, her arms firmly around his neck, and finally gave in to the temptation she'd had since the first time he'd kissed her; she wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her feet behind his back.

He moaned low in his throat when she did that, and she loved the vibrations it sent through her body, making everything in her flare with lust. He kept one hand firmly gripping her bottom, occasionally squeezing it to her delight, while the other drifted up into her hair, tangling in it and changing the angle of her head while he kissed her. He kissed her like he was starving for the taste of her, tongue dancing through her mouth, and she answered in kind; she loved the taste of him, the feel of him, this raging fire that she wanted to burn up in.

Finally, he pulled his mouth away from hers when both of them could no longer breathe, and just stood there for a second, catching his breath. "I – I want to touch you . . . everywhere, this time," he managed between deep breaths.

She met his eyes, which were almost black with desire now, and shuddered. "Well, like I'm going to say no to that," she murmured. "It might work out better down on the ground, though."

Understanding flared in his eyes as he lowered her down to the grass, and she unwrapped herself from him long enough to strip off the cotton tunic and leggings she was wearing, kicking off her boots, and unwinding her breast band as well, leaving only the bottom half of her smallclothes on. She loved the look of blazing lust on his face as his eyes travelled over her body. She was also pleased when he stripped off his tunic and kicked off his own boots without her even asking, letting her glimpse his bare chest again in the light of the setting sun, though he left his leggings on for the moment as he settled himself between her legs.

Bracing himself on one arm, he lowered his mouth to her ear, nipping lightly at her earlobe before sucking on the skin behind it. Even as he did that, his other hand ran down over her chest, lightly skimming over her breasts. She moaned, arching up into his touch as she skimmed her hands over his broad shoulders and back. She loved the feel of his rougher skin, the firmness of his muscles beneath her hands; she couldn't get enough of touching him.

He kissed his way down her throat again, being a little rougher this time than he had last time, sucking harder on the skin of her throat, nipping a little more – but she enjoyed every second of it. She couldn't keep herself from vocally expressing her pleasure, either, and he seemed encouraged by every sound she made. His hand was continuing to lightly caress her, having progressed to the outside of her leg now as his mouth continued downward. The two combined were exquisite torture.

She moved her hands down further, to his firm backside, and squeezed, delighting in the strangled groan he made against her chest when she did so. As if in retaliation, he made his way to her nipple and suckled hard, sending a bolt of lust shooting straight to her aching core. She cried out, arching her back. In response, she slid her hand around to the front and cupped his sizable erection through his leggings. He froze, and lifted his head off her breast to stare at her, eyes wide and blazing. She smirked at him before stroking it firmly.

He gasped, his hips bucking toward her, and the hand that was now cupped around her knee shot to her wrist, firmly pulling it away. "Ayla," he managed hoarsely, "don't do that."

She grinned wickedly at him. "Why not? I know you like it."

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed, flushing adorably. "But I want to . . . finish what I was doing, first. This is your reward, remember? So just let me . . . keep going."

She smiled. Goddess, he was so cute and sexy and just . . . generous. She'd never had a man so devoted to her pleasure before that he would actually stop her – twice now – from touching him. How could she refuse? "All right, keep going, and I'll leave you alone – for now." She squeezed his backside with her other hand again before adding, "Well, that area, anyway."

He chuckled lightly as he let go of her wrist. "Fair enough." His mouth descended on her again, this time switching to her other nipple, swirling his tongue around it and suckling again, gently nipping. She moaned as the sensation sent flames scorching through her body. She returned her free hand to running over his body, sometimes lightly scraping with her nails.

His hand had found its way back to her leg, but was now tracing up her inner thigh, excruciatingly slowly. Goddess, he was going to kill her. His mouth left her breast for a moment as he kissed and licked his way down her stomach, swirling his tongue in her belly button. Suddenly, his hand was cupping her through her smalls, and she shrieked at the sensation, her hips bucking against his hand.

He lifted his head, studying her. "Do you . . . want me to stop?"

"No! Are you crazy? Don't you dare!" she exclaimed.

He laughed, a very smug, male grin spreading across his face. "So . . . you like it when I do this?" He rubbed his hand against her aching center, and she gasped, squirming as she felt the coil winding tighter in her stomach. "You're so . . . wet," he added wonderingly, fingering her smalls.

She moaned. "Get them off – now!"

He quickly complied, rolling out of the way so he could slide her smalls down and off her legs, tossing them to the side. He touched her, gently, with his fingers, and she shuddered at the sensation. She felt like she was made of liquid fire now. "Please, Alistair, just . . ."

He surprised her when he slid a finger in without her even asking. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as he slid it out, then back in. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to her stomach again, and she didn't miss the fact that he was going lower as he did so. His thumb was rubbing its way through her folds as he added a second finger, and she cried out as his thumb suddenly found the nub that was the center of her pleasure. "Yes, Alistair, right there!"

She was, she had to admit, shocked when his thumb was replaced by his mouth, which began to suckle at her as he continued to slide his fingers in and out. She was now writhing in earnest, and could feel the fire burning brighter as the pressure wound tighter and tighter. It was when he added a third finger while simultaneously suckling harder that she shot straight over the edge, screaming his name as she arched against his mouth and exploded around him. He slid his fingers out, though he didn't move his mouth right away, instead gently licking as she shuddered through her aftershocks.

Eventually, he pulled his mouth away and sat up, shocking her anew – and arousing her a little again already – when he licked his fingers off. "Maker, you taste so good," he said huskily, looking at her with those dark eyes.

"Where . . . did you learn that?" she asked in shock, feeling thoroughly pleasured and languid.

"Ah, well, Aedan gave me a bit of advice," he admitted, flushing again. "I asked him what women liked, and . . . that's what he told me."

"Oh." She considered that for a moment, deciding that she owed Aedan a huge favour. She sat up. "Remind me to thank him later. Now, it's your turn."

"Oh, no, you don't have to . . ." he began, shaking his head as he scrambled backwards.

"Alistair?" she said sweetly. He stopped and looked at her. "Shut up and let me do what I want."

He froze, watching her with hungry eyes as she crawled towards him. When she was straddling his legs, she pushed him flat on his back on the grass. "Remember, you have to leave me alone until I'm done," she whispered in his ear. He shuddered underneath her.

She decided to start at the top and work her way down as well - the torture had to be equal - so she began sucking and biting at his neck, deliberately biting just hard enough to leave marks. She knew she was going to have some, so it was only fair if he did too. She made her way down his chest, roaming with her hands as well, alternating between rubbing with her hands and lightly scratching, just as her mouth alternated between sucking and biting. When she nipped at his nipples, he bucked against her, and she smiled against his chest. She continued on her way downwards, slowly but surely making her way to the waistband of his leggings.

By the time she reached his leggings, he was trembling with anticipation, hands dug into the ground to keep from touching her. She smirked up at him as she hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of both his leggings and his smalls, before pulling them down his legs and off. She was not disappointed when his erection sprang free. Goddess, he was even bigger than she'd expected, and that taut muscle of his was all over his body. Just looking at him was making her throb with longing all over again.

She ran her hands up his muscled legs, stopping with them on his hips as she braced herself above him. She smiled slyly at him before lowering her mouth over him, taking in as much as she could manage. He let out a strangled cry, and she could feel him forcibly restraining himself from bucking further into her mouth.

She swirled her tongue around his length as she knelt between his legs, cupping his balls in one hand as she stroked the rest of his shaft with the other. "Ayla!" he moaned when she oh-so-lightly scraped him with her teeth, before closing her lips around him and sucking hard. She began moving her mouth up and down his length, switching between laving him with her tongue and sucking hard.

Suddenly, his hands came up and clutched tightly, almost painfully, in her hair as though he were afraid she'd stop. Knowing that he was close, she sped up her ministrations, and he let out a strangled cry as he arched up and began to empty into her mouth. She'd taken him as far back as she could, so she swallowed his seed quite easily, not that she would have had much choice anyway as he hadn't let go of her head. When he was finally spent, he collapsed back down and let her go, his arms falling at his sides.

She lifted her head off him, hands braced on his hips again, and looked at him; he was laying there with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He suddenly reached down, hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her up to lay across his chest. She went willingly, running a hand gently through his sandy hair. "How was that?" she asked softly. "Did you enjoy it?"

His eyes popped open, back to their normal hazel color, although dazed. "Maker, Ayla, if I'd enjoyed it any more, you would have killed me."

"Hmm, good." She smiled smugly. "Now you know how I felt."

He chuckled softly, before pulling her down for a slow, thorough, heartbreakingly tender kiss. When he pulled back slightly, she felt an unaccustomedly warm feeling blooming in her chest. Goddess, what was he doing to her? "We should get dressed and go back, before someone comes looking for us." He smiled up at her. "Aedan will have kept them busy for a little while, but it being supper time, they'll start wondering just what's going on."

She sighed regretfully. He was right, of course, but she would've been fine with staying here for a good while longer, and going again once they were both recovered. She had never enjoyed herself quite so much before. Reluctantly, she got up and began to gather up her clothes, hearing him doing the same behind her. They both dressed hurriedly, although she looked up once while putting her breastband back on to find him watching her with that hungry expression again. When he saw her looking, though, he flushed and quickly went back to pulling his tunic on.

Once they were both done, they made their way back to camp. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in tight, smiling down at her. One of these days, she promised herself, she was going to get him all the way over his reluctance and actually bed him properly. But this would most certainly do in the meantime.

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They set off the next morning, her, Aedan, Morrigan, Zevran, and Alistair, leaving the others behind at the base camp. Surprisingly, no one had made any comments last night when they got back to camp, though Ayla was quite certain everyone knew what they had been up to. Zevran had merely smiled knowingly at her, while the others had simply pretended they hadn't noticed their absence.

This morning, however, Ayla had overheard Wynne asking Alistair before they left if he needed healing for the "wounds on his neck" which had caused Alistair to turn bright red and stammer, much to the amusement of Wynne and herself. She had been quite satisfied to see a few rather prominent bruises on his neck, and suspected she had a few as well. It was a pretty sure thing, judging by the way Alistair kept looking at her neck, his eyes darkening even as the rest of his face reddened. She wished he'd stop, because that just made her want to drag him off again and she knew they didn't have time for that.

At Aedan's request, Morrigan took her bird form again and began scouting ahead looking for possible trails and signs of the Dalish, while Ayla shifted into her panther self and began scouting as well, dashing ahead and trying to pick up a scent. The deeper she went into the forest, the more certain she became that, as usual, something wasn't right in the world of Ferelden. Her animal self was getting the feeling that it was going to be threatened by a larger predator - possibly more than one, and she wasn't quite sure she understood what that meant. Surely the Dalish couldn't pose that much of a threat?

By midday, she'd picked up the scent of elves, fairly similar at the base of it to the scent of the elves at home, or even Zevran, but at the same time slightly different. It also smelled like they had something akin to deer with them. Morrigan had also found what looked like the sight of many wagons passing through the area. She flew back to get the others, while Ayla shifted back to human and sat by a tree to wait.

It was a few hours before Morrigan brought the three men to where Ayla was, and she'd almost fallen asleep a couple of times. Finally, they arrived, and she stood up as they approached. "How far away do you think they are?" Aedan asked her.

She shrugged. "Hard to say, maybe a couple of days ahead. But something's not quite right in this forest, Aedan. Both Morrigan and I can feel it."

Aedan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It seems like we have to run into problems everywhere we go."

"Life is more exciting that way, is it not, my Warden friend?" Zevran asked, grinning.

"I think we could do with a little less excitement, personally," Alistair said dryly.

"Perhaps we should stop whining and start moving on, no?" Morrigan demanded, tapping her foot impatiently. "Else we shall never catch up to these Dalish elves of yours."

"Morrigan's right." Aedan moved forward in the direction Ayla indicated. "We'd better get going and catch up to them as soon as we can. We'll take as short of breaks as possible."

They'd packed light when leaving the base camp, only bringing some food, potions, and blankets, as well as their armor and weapons, of course, in order to be able to move faster. They didn't stop walking that night until it was fully dark, and then simply ate a quick meal and slept on the forest floor. The men had divided the watch up amongst themselves, knowing that the use of shapeshifting made both Ayla and Morrigan more tired, so the two of them got to sleep through the night, fortunately.

They were shaken awake promptly at dawn, however, and the trek began anew. Ayla was certain by now that the elves had stopped moving, and must have set up a camp somewhere. She told Aedan that it was likely they'd come across the elves sometime the next day.

As she suspected, Morrigan flew back early the next morning, informing them that she'd spotted some elven scouts patrolling the perimeter of a camp. "We should come across them within an hour or so," she informed the others.

Not long after, Ayla could hear them moving through the trees, and sidled up to Aedan to whisper, "They're starting to surround us now. We should be running into the leader any moment."

Sure enough, she heard the sound of bows being drawn as they came around a bend in the path, and an angry female elf in leather armor descended on them. Two other elves were behind her with bows drawn, but Ayla knew there were several more out of their line of sight in the trees. The female elf, clearly the leader of the guards, stalked up to Aedan and scowled. "Stop right there, outsider! The Dalish have camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere."

"And there they are," she whispered to Aedan. She refrained from adding what else she'd realized – the smell of something that was both similar to a shifter and not was stronger now that they'd reached the camp. She didn't even want to know what they were going to find when they finally entered the Dalish camp.


	18. The Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party arrives at the Dalish camp, and after speaking to Zathrian, elect to help the elves with their werewolf problem in return for troops. Alistair is worried that Ayla may be in more danger than anyone from the curse. The party discovers that the werewolves may not be as mindless as Zathrian has told them.

Chapter 18: The Curse

Aedan held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm afraid we cannot do that. You see, we were actually looking for the Dalish, and have been for the last few days."

The female elf glared at him suspiciously, her eyes sweeping over the rest of the group, arms crossed. The other two had not yet lowered their bows. "I find that hard to believe. What business could we Dalish possibly have with a group like yours?"

Aedan swept her his usual courtly bow. "We are Grey Wardens, that wish to speak with your leader."

The elf's expression didn't waver in the slightest. "Grey Wardens? How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Ayla had moved back next to Alistair, giving Aedan space even as she picked out where exactly the other elves were amongst the trees, should they decide to attack. She could see Morrigan and Zevran doing the same as she whispered to Alistair, "Maybe you two should start carrying around darkspawn skulls so people will believe you when you say you're Grey Wardens."

Alistair snorted in agreement as he whispered back, "They'd probably just say 'How do I know that's actually a darkspawn skull'?" Ayla grinned in response, closing her hand on one of her daggers as she carefully watched for any signs of attack.

"Many people go about pretending to be Grey Wardens, do they?" Aedan asked dryly, an edge of exasperation in his tone.

The elf stared at him for a long moment before she finally relaxed her stance, waving to the elves behind her who lowered their bows. Ayla released her grip on her dagger as she heard the other elves doing the same. "No, that's true. Perhaps I shall let the keeper decide for himself. In the camp, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself and remember that our arrows are still trained on you."

"Thank you," Aedan began, but the elf had already turned around and begun walking down the path, gesturing for them to follow her. Shrugging, Aedan followed after her and the other elves, while Ayla and the rest followed him.

She led them on a path that wound through the trees for a time before it came to a far more open space, where trees were interspersed with what looked like ruins. Pillars, statues and other stone structures were visible throughout the clearing, along with the trees. There were also several cloth-covered wagons that somewhat resembled ships throughout the area, each with a campfire and a few elves in front of it.

As the elf lead them deeper into the encampment, they passed several other elves, most of whom bore leather armor and weapons, particularly bows. Only a few of the elves aside from the children were dressed in ordinary clothes. Though none of the elves were overtly hostile, Ayla could feel the suspicious stares and hear the whispers that followed them through camp. She also noted that several of the female elves wore armor similar to the woman who guided them; skirted leather armor rather like her own, except it left their midriffs bare. She wasn't sure how that was any more practical than her tunic, but they did look very easy to move in. She might have to look into buying a set later.

Finally, the woman stopped in front of the largest of the wagons, where a tall, bald elf in gold and silver robes stood. He bore a twisted staff on his back, and his face was covered with an odd tattoo that resembled a tree covering most of the upper half of his face. He looked up at the group as they approached. "Hmm. I see we have guests. Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today."

The female elf bowed. "They claim to be Grey Wardens and wish to speak to the clan. I thought it best to leave the decision to you."

He nodded, closely studying each and every one of them. As his eyes passed over Ayla, she frowned. She had an uneasy feeling about him, which none of the other elves had given her so far. She couldn't quite place just what it was, though. "That was wise of you. Ma serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post," he dismissed the female elf.

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper," she replied before heading back the way she had come, with the other two in tow.

He turned back to their group, addressing Aedan who stood out in front. "Now, allow to me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, its guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?"

Aedan bowed to him even as he had the first elf as he replied, "My name is Aedan, a pleasure to meet you. I am a Grey Warden and these are my companions. Alistair is also a Grey Warden; the other three, Ayla, Morrigan, and Zevran, are aiding us in fighting the Blight." He gestured to each of the others in turn; Ayla bowed at her introduction, as did everyone else but Morrigan.

Zathrian's eyebrows rose as he watched them. "Manners? From a shemlen? Interesting. What might be your mission here? Have you come to spread news of the Blight? I had already sensed the corruption spreading in the south. The existence of the Blight is not news to me." He looked around the camp, frowning. "I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not."

Ayla could better see from where they stood now that there were several cots and pallets set up in front of the wagons off to their left, each filled with an elf. Though she suspected the others couldn't hear from this distance, the elves were all moaning in pain; from what, she didn't know.

Alistair followed her gaze, noticing the injured elves as well. "Yes, it seems like you have had your own troubles. What are the odds?" he remarked wryly. Ayla had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, inappropriate as it was; it was true that everywhere they went, even though they were searching for help themselves, they could not gain aid without first assisting everyone. She was guessing it was becoming a source of much frustration for both Aedan and Alistair, although personally she was kind of enjoying it. It had been a long time since she had felt so needed and useful.

Ignoring Alistair's remark, Zathrian kept his attention fixed on Aedan as he continued, "I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some . . . explanation. Please, follow me." He gestured for them to follow as he headed in the direction of the cots.

As they got closer to the cots, Ayla could more clearly hear the fact that the elves were moaning and crying out in pain, as well as thrashing about on their cots. Even more disturbing was the fact that they were all covered in blood, and Ayla could tell that they were no longer quite the same as the other elves. They were carrying that odd scent she'd picked up upon entering the forest; they were close to becoming something else, something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her instincts scream in protest. She instinctively reached for Alistair's hand; just touching it, even with his gauntlet on, made her somehow feel safer, especially when he squeezed her hand gently and smiled reassuringly down at her before turning back to the elves.

Zathrian stopped at the edge of the cots, watching the two elves that were scurrying amongst the injured, tending to them. He turned back to Aedan, who was studying the scene with a furrowed brow. "The clan came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They . . . ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak." He gestured needlessly at the makeshift infirmary before continuing, "The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we are in no position to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry."

Ayla watched Aedan as the crease in his brow got more pronounced; she knew this wasn't what he had wanted to hear. Finally, he turned to Zathrian, asking, "Is there no way to help your men?"

"The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous." Zathrian hesitated, watching Aedan closely before finishing, "The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that . . . that would be no trivial task to retrieve."

Aedan looked to each of them in turn, starting with Alistair, who nodded, answering the unspoken question immediately. Though Ayla still had a bad feeling about the elves' oncoming transformation in general - what exactly were werewolves, after all? - and Zathrian in particular, she nodded too. They couldn't leave things as they were, especially not when they needed the elves' help. Morrigan merely sighed audibly, and Zevran shrugged indifferently. Aedan turned to Zathrian. "We are good at non-trivial tasks. We will help your clan however we can. What is it that we need to do?"

Zathrian looked both surprised and relieved as he answered, "Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf – we call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse, but this task has proven too dangerous for us. I sent some hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my clan."

Aedan nodded. "We will find this Witherfang for you, then, and hope that by doing so, we can help you to break the curse."

Zathrian began to head back in the direction of his wagon, and they followed as he stated, "I must warn you that more than werewolves lurk in the Brecilian Forest. It has a history full of carnage and murder, you see. Where there is so much death, the Veil separating the spirit realm from our own becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things living or dead. But if you can indeed help . . . then I wish you luck." He stopped at the wagon, turning to look at them with a clear expression of dismissal.

"Actually, I do have some questions before we leave," Aedan responded.

Zathrian frowned. "Make them quick, if you please. I have much to do, here. My apprentice, Lanaya, or Sarel, the clan's storyteller, could provide you with answers just as easily."

"Tell me more about this curse the hunters suffer from. Can you offer any specific details?" Ayla thought it was quite a fair question for Aedan to ask, given that Zathrian hadn't offered much of an explanation, but Zathrian's frown deepened as he met Aedan's questioning stare.

He shrugged dismissively. "There is not much to say. It stemmed originally from Witherfang, but now any werewolf may infect someone with it."

"So if a werewolf bites one of us, then we will become infected?" Aedan asked thoughtfully.

"It is possible, but not guaranteed. The only way to protect against the curse is not to be bitten," Zathrian replied.

Aedan then asked the question that was most plaguing Ayla's curiosity. "How did this curse start?"

Zathrian turned away for a moment, gathering some herbs from a chest behind him before answering curtly, "That is a long tale I do not have time to tell. Ask Sarel about it, if you wish. You may also want to keep watch for the white wolves; they are the eyes and ears of Witherfang in the forest. Now I really must return to caring for my people. Creators' speed on your way." With that, he headed back to the injured elves without a backwards glance.

Aedan turned back to the rest of them, frowning. "I think we need a little more information before we proceed. It will be faster if we split up; Alistair, why don't you and Ayla go question this Lanaya while the rest of us speak to this Sarel? See what you can find out about the Dalish and the curse in particular."

Alistair nodded. "Of course." As Aedan turned and began heading to a nearby group of elves, presumably to find out where Sarel was, he turned to Ayla. "Is something bothering you?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged, unexpectedly warmed by the concern in his hazel eyes. "I forgot to mention it before, but one of the other side effects shifters have is an animal's instinct for danger. And it's been giving me a bad feeling about this . . . curse of theirs."

He grinned crookedly. "Would it help if I told you I had the exact same bad feeling?"

She couldn't help smiling in response. "Not really, no, but thanks anyway. I know we need to do this, either way, so let's find this apprentice of Zathrian's. I think that might be her over there."

She pointed to another wagon several yards away, where a young elf woman in similar gold and silver robes to Zathrian's was grinding herbs in a bowl. Alistair nodded and the two made their way over to her.

After they had introduced themselves, and found out she was indeed Zathrian's apprentice, or First, as she called herself, Alistair began to question her about the Dalish and their current circumstances. Ayla was content to stand back and let him direct the conversation, instead watching Lanaya's reactions and trying to get a feel for the woman.

The more she watched as Lanaya and Alistair spoke, the more she felt that Lanaya, at least, was trustworthy. Whatever it was that made her uneasy about Zathrian was not shared by his foremost assistant. She was also enjoying watching how well Alistair was doing with her; he was asking all the right questions, and answering all the questions the curious Lanaya had in a skilful manner.

She wondered why it was that he'd felt he needed to pass leadership over to Aedan. As far as she could see, he would make just as good a leader as Aedan would. He had all the right instincts, and as long as someone else had put him in charge of something, he didn't seem to have a problem following through. He also had a good strategic sense on the battlefield. Was it just a lack of confidence in his own abilities? She'd have to help him work on that, she decided. There was no reason he couldn't be an excellent leader himself one day.

Once he'd wrapped up the conversation with Lanaya, he turned to Ayla. "Let's go find Aedan, see if he's ready to move on."

She nodded, and they headed over to the fire that Aedan and the others had gone to earlier. They could see in the distance that he was still there; clearly Sarel had been among those elves. As they got closer, Ayla could see that Aedan and the others had seated themselves on logs next to a middle-aged male elf, listening as he explained aspects of the curse to them.

She and Alistair stopped behind the log where the others were sitting, standing and listening to the elf's explanations. Ayla was only half listening as she studied each of the elves at the fire in turn, until she heard the storyteller conclude with, "I would rather die than become a ravening, soulless beast. Wouldn't you?"

"What?!" Ayla exclaimed, fury shooting through her before she'd had a chance to think logically about the conversation. She started forward as everyone turned to look at her, but she'd only taken a step when Alistair's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back.

"Relax," he whispered in her ear. "He wasn't talking about you."

"I-I know that," she whispered back. But of course she hadn't; she was a little ashamed that she'd allowed herself to have such a knee-jerk reaction to what was being said about these werewolves. For all she knew, they were nothing like her and the other shifters back home; they might truly be uncontrollable, mindless beasts. Yet she hadn't been able to help the instant fury that had poured through her. What was also a little disturbing was that Alistair had understood so quickly what she was angry about. Did he already know her so well?

"Sorry, it was just a misunderstanding." Alistair smiled at the elves as he towed Ayla away. "We'll just wait over here."

"Thank you," Ayla said quietly when they were out of earshot of the others. He'd let go of her and she turned to face him, flushing with embarrassment as she met his eyes. "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry. I just heard what he said, and I'm so used to those sort of comments being made about me or the people I care about that I just reacted without . . . realizing."

He smiled gently. "Don't worry about it, I understand. I don't mind having an excuse to touch you, anyway." He leered exaggeratedly at her, waggling his eyebrows.

She grinned, appreciating the fact that he was trying to distract her even as she was disturbed by how well he did understand. "You don't need an excuse to touch me, you know."

"Oh?" His eyes darkened as he closed the distance between them, settling his hands on her hips and pulling her closer. "Does that mean I can do it whenever I like?"

She twined her arms around his neck, pressing herself even closer. "Absolutely," she breathed, about to pull his lips down to hers when she heard Morrigan say from behind them, "Must you two do that? You are making me ill."

"Two birds with one stone," Alistair retorted, but he sighed and pulled away, much to Ayla's disappointment. "What did you find out?" he asked Aedan.

"Not much," Aedan shrugged. "The Veil to the Fade is torn in the forest, so there's apparently a lot more to watch out for besides just the werewolves. But nothing much useful about the curse itself, other than the fact that it's supposedly caused by a spirit. What about you?"

Alistair shook his head. "Lanaya didn't seem to know much about the curse either. What do you want to do?"

"We don't have a choice, we have to go ahead with breaking this curse if we want their help," Aedan answered. "I'd prefer if we knew more, but there's not much to go on."

Ayla frowned. "I have a bad feeling about Zathrian. I cannot place why, and I don't feel that way about any of the others, but he makes me uneasy."

"It is likely because he is lying, my dear," Zevran supplied. "He knows more about the curse than he is telling us, and it is not anything good."

Ayla looked at him, surprised. "How do you know that?"

He gave her a roguish grin. "I am an assassin, after all. I would not have lasted long if I could not tell when someone was lying or a danger to me."

Morrigan snorted. "Really? So you are aware then that I will kill you if you ever attempt to touch me?"

Zevran winked at her. "Of course I am, my lovely witch. That does not make the prospect any less appealing."

Morrigan rolled her eyes as Aedan interrupted, "Getting back to the issue at hand, whether or not Zathrian's lying, the decision of whether to uphold the treaty lies with him. We have to remain in his good graces – which means doing as he's asked. We might as well start out now, if no one has any further objections. We'll pick up a few more supplies on the way out – an elf named Varathorn should apparently have what we need."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and they set out to find Varathorn's wagon before leaving camp. As they were walking, Alistair looked over at Ayla. "What would happen to you if a werewolf bit you? Would there be some sort of reaction with your abilities?"

"I don't know," Ayla replied slowly, thinking it over. "I'm still not entirely sure what a werewolf is – they seem to be similar to shapeshifters, but not exactly the same. It could be that I would react the same as anyone else – or it might war with my animal half and either the panther would win or the struggle would . . . well, kill me, I suppose."

Alistair grabbed her arm, and they stopped walking as she looked up at him in surprise. She could see both concern and an undertone of fear lurking in his eyes. "Promise me you'll be careful for once. If we run into werewolves, keep behind me. Don't let them bite you."

She scoffed and shook her head, pulling away from him to catch up with the others. She was irritated that he would ask her that, even as she was touched that he was worried. Why did she have to be so split in her feelings for him? "So I am just supposed to let you be bit instead?"

He caught up with her as she reached the others. "Yes," he said firmly. "There will be less immediate danger for me. Please, just . . . promise me you'll try."

She sighed, realizing by the look on his face that he wasn't about to let it go. "I cannot promise that I will not engage them directly, but I will try my best not to get anywhere near their mouth. That's the best I can do."

He nodded slowly, looking somewhat appeased if not totally relieved. "All right."

They reached Varathorn's wagon shortly after that, and Aedan proceeded to trade for some more supplies, including more potions, more food, more herbs for Morrigan to make potions, and even a bow and arrow for Zevran, who claimed to be decently skilled at archery as well as his "other skills" as he put it. Once they were done, they headed for the path leading out of the camp deeper into the forest.

They had only travelled away from the camp for about half an hour, with the smell of the werewolves getting ever stronger, when Ayla heard the sound of crashing through the trees just before she heard a howl. "They're coming!" She drew her swords, alarmed at how fast she could hear them approaching; they might even be faster than her.

Just as everyone drew their weapons and readied themselves, three werewolves and as many regular wolves burst over the ridge ahead of them. The werewolves attacked without hesitation, and though Ayla could faintly smell something human in them, it was largely overwhelmed by the scent of the wolf. They were not like regular wolves, however, but were huge beasts, running on their hind legs as though they were human, seeming to be some twisted form of something half human, half wolf. Even their heads were shaped differently from a wolf's, their muzzles shorter, though no less lethal. They were truly nothing like herself or the other shifters. That would make it easier for her, if she could think of them as abominations, like those things in the Circle tower.

Zevran began firing arrows, apparently preferring to stay back from the teeth, while Aedan and Alistair moved in front of the others, meeting two of the werewolves directly. The third stumbled back from a bolt sent by Morrigan.

Ayla engaged one of the wolves that came rushing forward, blocking its lunge with one sword while stabbing the other into its side. As the wolf halted its attack and whimpered in pain, she hacked off its head with her other sword, turning just in time to meet an attack from another wolf.

She was in the middle of the battle with that wolf, having a little more trouble dispatching it, as it was larger and faster than the previous one, when she heard one of the werewolves approaching her from behind. She knew she wasn't going to be able to turn in time to meet it. Just as she was bracing herself for the worst, while trying to block the teeth from the front, she heard the sound of clanking armor behind her, then the sound of something striking metal.

She finished off the wolf she was attacking as fast as possible and whirled around, in time to see Alistair running the werewolf through with his sword. He bashed it in the head with his shield before delivering a finishing stroke to its neck. He turned to look at her, and she noticed with relief that he was unhurt, though his shield was severely dented. The others all seemed fine as well; the attacking wolves and werewolves were all lying dead around them.

Sudden, unreasonable fury rushed through her on the heels of her relief. "Just what did you think you were doing, throwing yourself in harm's way like that?" she snapped.

Alistair reeled back, obviously surprised, before his mouth tightened with his own anger. "I was keeping you from being bitten by a werewolf! I thought we discussed this?"

She scowled. "I agreed to try not to engage them directly. I did not say you should throw yourself between me and a werewolf. There is no need for you to get yourself hurt trying to protect me!"

"Yes, there is!" He threw up his hands in obvious frustration. "I care about you, and if you're about to get mauled by a werewolf, I'm going to step in! Besides, I didn't get myself hurt!"

She folded her arms and glared at him, even as she felt an inexplicably warm rush from his words. He cared about her? No, she didn't want him to, just as she didn't want to care about him. "Only because you were lucky! Just stay out of it next time!"

"No." He glared right back at her, standing his ground, and damn if she didn't find that appealing. "I won't. It makes more sense for me to get bit than it does you. You have a chance of dying right away, where the worst that will happen to me is to suffer from that curse until we're able to lift it. I will not let you get bit if I can stop it."

Aedan came up next to Alistair. "He does have a point, you know, Ayla. We don't know what would happen to you if you got bit. You're in more danger than the rest of us."

"Yes, surprisingly enough, he is actually making sense for once," Morrigan observed. "Whereas you are not."

"Thanks so much," Alistair said dryly.

"Indeed," Zevran agreed. "Why would you wish for your beautiful skin to be marred by bites if it can be avoided? Your Warden has that heavy armor to protect him, after all."

Ayla sighed, deflating. She knew she was being unreasonable; she just didn't know exactly why she was. Just the thought of Alistair being in harm's way for her sake was unthinkable; why, she didn't understand, and that made her angry. But she knew it made the most sense for him to do that, especially since everyone was agreeing with him.

She threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine, you're right, I'm sorry! I will allow you to protect me." When he started to smile, she pointed a finger sternly at him. "Only from the werewolves, you understand? If you try to do it in any other battle where our danger is equal, I won't forgive you."

He shook his head, but he was still smiling as he gave her a mock bow. "If you say so, my lady, I will do as you wish."

"Let's move on now, shall we?" Aedan gestured to the path ahead of them. "I doubt we will find this Witherfang before dark, so we need to find somewhere relatively safe to set up camp before then."

They nodded, and soon were continuing on their way through the forest. This area of the forest was full of hills and cliffs as well as trees, and several small streams crossed their path from time to time, with little wooden bridges built over them. Ayla could hear a waterfall in the distance as well. Unfortunately, all the rushing water was making it more difficult for her to discern other noises, and the forest smelled so strongly of werewolf, it was hard for her to pick out one scent from the next. Anything that limited her abilities always made her distinctly uncomfortable; she could only hope that nothing bad happened because of it.

About a couple of hours before sunset, they came around a bend in the path and saw the waterfall ahead. At the base of the waterfall was a small island, ringed by a stream. Another bridge led over to it from the path they were on. As they got closer, they saw three werewolves come running towards it from the other direction. They all tensed up, waiting for the attack; but this time, the werewolves merely stopped on the island, facing them.

"It's like they're . . . waiting for us to come and talk to them," Ayla said slowly, one hand on one of her swords as they all stared at the werewolves.

"It does look that way," Aedan agreed. "I suppose we might as well confront them; that island is the only way forward."

Cautiously, they all moved towards the island, Aedan in the lead. He crossed over to the island first, followed by Alistair, then Ayla, Morrigan, and Zevran. Ayla noticed that Alistair made sure to stay between her and the werewolves, though the werewolves made no move to attack as Aedan stopped in front of them.

One of the werewolves was standing a little ahead of the other two, and Ayla was shocked when it suddenly spoke, in a strangely garbled voice, its words occasionally interspersed with growling. "The watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters. The Dalish send a human, of all things, to repay for us for our attack, to put us in our place. What bitter irony." The werewolf sniffed the air, then looked over Alistair's shoulder, as it was a good foot taller than him, locking eyes with Ayla. "And someone who is both human and not; even more ironic."

"You speak?" Aedan asked, sounding as equally shocked as Ayla felt. These werewolves, she noticed suddenly, smelled more human than the others. She wasn't so sure if she wanted to fight them anymore, as Aedan continued, "I thought werewolves were savage beasts."

"We are beasts, but we are no longer simple and mindless. Let that thought chill your spine," the lead werewolf snarled at them, though it still made no move to attack. "You speak to Swiftrunner. I lead my cursed brothers and sisters. Turn back now, go back to the Dalish and tell them that you have failed. Tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered for too long. We will watch them pay!"

Aedan frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "You sound as if you hate the Dalish a great deal. What exactly happened?"

"That we do. How dare they send you here against us! Turn and leave, while you still have the chance!" Swiftrunner was shouting now, and his anger was putting Ayla on edge.

She stepped forward next to Alistair. "Please, let us talk. I . . . know how you feel, to be something other than human, to have others view you as a monster."

Swiftrunner turned his gaze to her, even as Alistair put an arm out in front of her, throwing her an anxious look. "Do you really understand? You might be similar to us, but you can remain in your own form if you wish. We are cursed to remain in this body, unable to return to our own forms. You who can hide the beast can never truly understand us."

Maybe he was right and she didn't truly understand, Ayla thought. How long had she been able to hide her animal half from Alistair and the others, after all? It was likely true that she would never fully be able to understand how it felt to be unable to appear as a human even if she wanted to. "Still, I –" she hesitated, unsure of exactly what to say to appease the werewolves.

"Yes, we would prefer to talk to you," Aedan agreed, stepping forward, nodding to Ayla almost imperceptibly. "We mean you no harm as long as we can come to an agreement."

Swiftrunner snapped his gaze back to Aedan. "Was it not Zathrian who sent you? He wishes only our destruction, never to talk!"

"We agreed to assist Zathrian, yes," Aedan said carefully. "But we are willing to negotiate how we assist him. Is there no way this can be resolved peacefully?"

"The time for peace is long past," Swiftrunner growled, shaking his head. "There will be no peace between the elves and we who are cursed."

"But why can't there be?" Ayla asked desperately. She was certain now; she didn't want to fight them. It would be like fighting her fellow Order members. "If you have overcome your nature this much, can you not make peace with them, find some way to resolve this?"

"You know nothing, do you? Nothing of us and even less of those you serve," Swiftrunner growled dismissively. "You are all fools, and we are done talking. Run from the forest while you can. Run to the Dalish and tell them they are doomed."

Aedan shook his head slowly, regretfully. "While we may not wish to fight, we have no choice but to go on. We cannot retreat."

Ayla sighed. She knew that Aedan and Alistair desperately needed the help of the Dalish in the Blight, and so they would go on, and keep fighting the werewolves if need be. While she might not wish to fight the werewolves, she could not let anything happen to any of these people she had come to know here, especially not Alistair, for reasons she refused to examine. She met Swiftrunner's eyes. "I am sorry, I do not wish harm to any of you, but if they are not backing down, I cannot either. I will do whatever I have to."

She saw understanding in Swiftrunner's brown eyes as he dipped his muzzle in acknowledgment. "I do not wish to fight you, either, but we cannot trust you." He turned back to the other werewolves. "Come, brothers and sisters, let us retreat. The forest has eyes and ears of its own, and it will deal with intruders as it always has."

Without further discussion, the three werewolves turned and fled back the way they had come. Ayla watched them leave, knowing that soon, they would have no choice but to confront them again, as much as she might wish otherwise.


	19. The Werewolves' Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla has trouble sleeping in the forest; Alistair comforts her while he is on watch, and they discuss whether she will leave Ferelden. The party arrives at the lair of the werewolves and makes their way through, finally convincing the werewolves to try to resolve things peacefully.

Chapter 19: The Werewolves' Lair

They had been in the Brecilian Forest for two days now since their first confrontation with the werewolves, and Alistair had been on edge nearly the entire time. He was on watch at the moment as the others slept nearby, wrapped only in blankets against the chill of the night on the forest floor, as they had been since they'd left the base camp behind. They had neither the supplies nor the time for setting up a proper camp in this forest.

The forest was as dangerous as Zathrian had warned; over the last two days, aside from werewolves, they had also run into bears, regular wolves, a couple of bands of darkspawn, and even a revenant in a set of ruins. The most surprising thing had been when the trees started to attack them.

That one had been a close call; Aedan had been in the lead, and the tree had picked him up in its branches and started squeezing before anybody had realized what had happened. He'd been nearly crushed to death before Morrigan had lit the tree on fire and Alistair had bashed it with his shield, knocking the tree off balance so it had dropped Aedan. The combination of magic fire and weapons had then finished the tree off.

It was the first time Alistair had ever seen Morrigan panicked; she'd run immediately to Aedan's side, casting healing magic on him while Ayla had helped him drink healing potions. Alistair hadn't known until then that Morrigan had been training with Wynne to improve her healing magic since the other mage had joined; it had shocked him because he knew both women hated each other. But apparently Morrigan had wanted to be of more use as a healer, and was willing to put up with Wynne for that reason if no other. It was hearing that, as well as seeing her panic, which had made Alistair realize the witch actually cared for his fellow Warden, amazingly enough. He hadn't thought her capable of it, but he couldn't doubt the evidence of his own eyes.

Fortunately, the combination of her healing spells and the potions they'd brought along had healed Aedan, and they'd continued on from there. Since then they'd kept a very close watch on the trees as they made their way through the forest, and encountered about a half dozen more of the walking, attacking monstrosities, being able to defeat them without any more major damage so far. Morrigan had said they must be possessed by malevolent spirits, just as some of the animals were; that was why they were attacking rather than just leaving them alone, as most animals in the forest would ordinarily do unless provoked.

Of course, all this was doing little to calm Alistair down as he kept watch. Even the sound of the trees rustling was suspect in this place, and so he waited, sword in hand, tense and watching the forest. As if he hadn't been worried enough about Ayla's safety when discovering that she might be at extra risk from the werewolves, they now had all these other threats to worry about, as well.

The part that had disturbed him the most when learning about Ayla's potential danger from the werewolves was how little she herself seemed to be bothered by it. She'd said that she might die from the bite so casually, as though it was of no concern whatsoever, and she hadn't even looked afraid. It was as though she could care less for her own life or safety. She'd even been mad at him when he'd saved her from the werewolf later; she'd been downright furious, actually, which he didn't understand at all. He wanted to ask Aedan if he understood why she'd been so mad, but there had been no opportunity to talk to him since then.

For once, though, everybody, even Morrigan, had agreed with him, and eventually Ayla had given in. In their next few encounters with the werewolves, she'd even stayed back as agreed, only using her throwing daggers in those battles and staying back with Zevran who was using his newly acquired bow. Alistair suspected, however, that her newfound obedience was as much from a desire not to fight the werewolves as it was to keep her promise to him.

He'd seen her when they'd spoken to the werewolf, Swiftrunner; she saw herself in them, and he could sympathize with that. He'd had a similar issue fighting the possessed Templars in the Circle tower; they could just as easily have been him. At least there, they'd truly had no choice; here, the situation was somewhat different. They could talk to and possibly reason with some of the werewolves, but hadn't been able to succeed in doing so. So he'd done his best to make sure that Ayla didn't have to finish any of the werewolves off; he'd taken it upon himself to see to it as much as possible instead.

She was being more reckless than ever in the other battles, however, as though to make up for hanging back in the werewolf encounters. She'd even changed forms to take on the bears they'd run into head-on, Morrigan at her side shifted into bear form, and it had nearly given him a heart attack. He would be extremely relieved when he finally got her out of this forest safe and sound; even though she hadn't been injured so far, that didn't mean things would continue to be that way.

Suddenly, he heard a light footfall behind him; he whirled, sword in hand, only to see Ayla behind him, hands up in defence. "It's just me," she said softly.

He frowned, lowering his sword. "What are you doing up? You should be sleeping."

She shrugged, and he could see the weariness in her face from the dim light of the one lamp they had for watch. "I'm finding it difficult to sleep in this forest. This place gives me a bad feeling, and it leaves me too on edge to relax. I thought I might as well help you with watch for a bit, since I'm not sleeping anyway."

He sighed. "I know exactly what you mean about being on edge. Well, come on then." He turned back to the flat-topped boulder he'd found to sit on nearby, seating himself on it, setting his sword on top near to hand if he needed it.

She came over to join him, and he opened his arms to her. He needed to just hold her; simply feeling her there in his arms would calm him down considerably, he knew. At this point, he wasn't even thinking about his desire for her, though that hadn't lessened in the slightest since their last encounter; he just needed comfort, to know that she was alive and here with him. She hesitated a moment before stepping into his arms, and he settled her in his lap, her back to his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.

He could already feel some of the tension draining out of him at the comfortable feeling of her in his arms as he murmured, "I just needed to hold you; I hope you don't mind."

She had initially been a little tense; he'd noticed she seemed a bit more reluctant about purely affectionate embraces compared to those that were all about desire. But she was now relaxing against him, leaning back against him and settling her hands over his gauntlets. "No, I don't mind. It's actually . . . relaxing," she whispered back, sounding surprised.

He smiled, pleased that she enjoyed it as he did. Maybe he could succeed in getting her to care for him the way he did her. If he was making her comfortable and relaxed when she didn't expect to feel that way, surely that was a good sign, right? "I'm glad. You should relax, you know. I'm the one on watch right now, not you." Reminding himself of that, he tried to focus his attention on the surrounding area, scanning for any movement in the trees nearby.

She sighed, leaning back against him. "It's difficult to turn it off. As much as the instincts can be a big help at times, right now they're more of a hindrance."

"Is it the werewolves bothering you, or the whole forest?" Alistair asked quietly. "Personally, I find the whole forest a bit creepy."

"Both, I think," she answered. "I have never seen anything like this place, with trees attacking and animals acting that way. It has to do with that Veil being thin, right? That's what Morrigan said."

Alistair nodded. "Right, the Veil to the Fade, that place we were in at the Tower. It's where the spirits and the demons are, and if there's a lot of turmoil somewhere, like there was here, the Veil becomes thin, sometimes even torn, and they can cross over. Is that something that doesn't happen in your world?"

She shook her head. "No, I have heard that spirits can sometimes cross over, but only if the Goddess allows it. They must have some sort of purpose to fulfill, and then they will be granted passage. They certainly can't infect things as they please. There is . . . so much that is different in your world."

"Are . . . you still thinking you might want to stay?" he asked carefully. It was what he wanted more than anything, but he didn't want to push her. He sensed that while she was comfortable enough with the concept of bedding someone, she wasn't so comfortable with the thought of committing to someone. But she had been very patient with him so far, how could he be any less with her? He could wait until she fell in love with him, until she wanted to stay with him as he wanted to stay with her; he felt as though he could wait forever, if that's what it took.

"Yes, I think I would like to," she replied after a moment, which sent relief and joy spinning through him. "This forest and that Fade are not enjoyable, but it's not as though everywhere is like that. But I still don't know if I have a choice in the matter."

He had forgotten about that, he realized, some of his joy deflating. Whatever power had sent her could just as easily send her back whenever it felt like it, even if she didn't want to go. What would he do then? It wasn't as though there was anything he could do to stop it. He'd just have to try not to worry about it, he decided. Maybe she would get a choice. "Well, I guess we will just have to wait and see. If you are here to stop the Blight, it will be some time before that happens, anyway, especially if we have to help every person in Ferelden along the way."

She chuckled softly. "It does seem that way, does it not? I don't truly mind, though. It feels nice to be needed, to have purpose. I was lacking it in Fallor."

He smiled. He loved that big heart of hers that wanted to help others, as much as it worried him at times. "Well, there's certainly no danger of lacking purpose in Ferelden," he teased lightly, covering what he really wanted to say, that _he_ needed her.

She turned slightly in his embrace, resting her head on his chest. He could see her eyelids beginning to droop. "That is good to know. You know, your armor does not make for a very comfortable pillow."

He kissed her forehead gently. "My apologies, my lady. You're welcome to use it as a pillow, anyway. I will," he caught himself just before he said _keep you safe_ , knowing it would likely only anger her, "keep watch while you do."

"Hmm." She smiled up at him. "Tell me a story, then, and I will."

"A story?" he laughed. "What sort of story am I supposed to tell?"

She shrugged, settling herself more comfortably on his lap, drawing her legs up. "Anything you like. Tell me about your time with the other Wardens, or whatever comes to mind."

"The other Wardens?" He did his best to ignore the flash of grief that came to mind at the thought, and instead tried to think of the good times they'd had. There had to be a good story he could tell her. And then it came to him; he began to tell her the story about the time the Grey Warden from the Anderfels, Gregor, had drank all of the other Wardens, including him, under the table.

He was just reaching the end of the story when he looked down at her again after scanning the forest and realized she'd actually fallen asleep, curled up against his armor. He felt warmth spread through his chest, elated that she trusted him that much. If she'd been able to sleep in his arms when she could not fall asleep elsewhere, didn't that mean he made her feel safe? That, too, must be a good sign, he decided. The thought that she could maybe come to love him one day made him feel more confident about himself than he'd ever felt before in his life. He would keep her safe, whether she wanted him to or not. He wasn't about to let anything happen to her in this forest, or ever, if he could help it. He went back to keeping watch with renewed determination.

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The next morning, they continued on their way through the forest. They were getting closer to the werewolves' lair the further they went east. They had entered a section of the forest that seemed a little different from where they had been previously; the number of streams had decreased, as well as the number of hills and cliffs. The forest itself appeared older, the vegetation less green, the trees fewer and farther between, and they were starting to see pillars of stones, chunks of white wall, and other signs of ruins everywhere.

"It won't be long now," Ayla murmured from her spot in the middle. "Just past that next ridge, we should run into them again." They were keeping their formation tight, as they had been throughout the rest of the forest. Alistair was in the lead with Aedan, Ayla was in the middle, and Morrigan and Zevran brought up the rear. They had been relying mostly on Ayla's sense of smell and Morrigan's ability to fly to track the werewolves back to their lair.

Alistair was back to being on edge again. Though he'd been at ease with Ayla in his arms last night, even on watch, now they were walking directly into danger he'd rather keep her out of, which was making him far more anxious than he wanted to be. Maker, they were going straight to the werewolves' lair, the place where she would be in the most possible danger. Though he didn't have his sword drawn, his hand never strayed far from the hilt. The others were similarly tense; the werewolves were difficult opponents, fast and strong, and they never knew when one of the forest's other threats would appear either.

True to Ayla's word, just after they passed between two high hills, there were three werewolves waiting in the clearing on the other side. The party froze in place, several yards from the werewolves. Though Alistair couldn't be positive, he was pretty sure they were the same three they'd run into at the waterfall. As Ayla came up behind him, he made sure that he was completely blocking her with his own body. Though he could hear her sigh in apparent exasperation behind him, she made no further comment.

"The forest has not been vigilant enough," the lead werewolf snarled, confirming Alistair's suspicion that this was Swiftrunner. "Still you come. You are stronger than we could have anticipated. The Dalish chose well. But you do not belong here, outsiders. Leave this place."

Aedan took a few steps forward, crossing his arms as he confronted the werewolves. Alistair was impressed, knowing that the gesture would slow him down considerably if he needed to draw his sword, and knowing that Swiftrunner would realize that too; it was a gesture of attempted peace. "Why won't you let me try to settle this dispute?"

"You are sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang!" Swiftrunner roared. "I will not stand by and allow that to happen!"

Ayla came up between Aedan and Alistair. _Was she crazy?_ He wondered anxiously, frowning at her as he shifted his shield in front of her. She ignored him as she addressed Swiftrunner. "We want to try to break the curse. Don't you want that too?"

Swiftrunner almost appeared to consider for a second before he shook his head. "Not if it means the death of Witherfang!"

"Why do you call the Dalish treacherous? You attacked them," Aedan pointed out.

"And they deserved no less!" Swiftrunner yelled, flinging his arms out, causing Alistair to actually put his hand on his sword hilt. He didn't think this discussion was going to end in anything but violence, no matter what Ayla or Aedan might wish.

"But why?" Aedan demanded, clearly frustrated. He'd uncrossed his arms, and his posture was now tense and ready. "You won't tell us what happened!"

"It does not matter. You are an intruder in our home! You come to kill, as all your kind do! We have learned this lesson well." So saying, Swiftrunner made a gesture, and the two werewolves behind him leaped forward.

Alistair drew his sword and darted forward to meet one of the werewolves head on. The best way to keep her safe would be to keep them as far away from her as possible. He met the werewolf's charge with his shield, firmly planting his feet to keep from being knocked over, and throwing his weight behind the blow of his shield to counter some of the werewolf's momentum. The result was that the werewolf actually fell back with a yelp, though Alistair himself could barely keep his feet.

To his left, Aedan was fighting with Swiftrunner, using the reach of his greatsword to keep himself as far away from the werewolf's claws and teeth as possible. An arrow struck Swiftrunner in the shoulder, causing him to roar and fall back. The third werewolf had fallen to an ice attack of Morrigan's along with more arrows.

A couple of throwing daggers thudded home into the werewolf in front of Alistair as he regained his momentum and began to strike out with his sword. He knew this meant Ayla wasn't far behind him, and renewed his attack accordingly. When he finally managed to land a blow on the werewolf's torso, the werewolf yelped and jumped back, another dagger landing in its shoulder. It turned and beat a hasty retreat, leaving only Swiftrunner to fight them.

Swiftrunner had meanwhile gone down on one knee from two more arrows, and Aedan was just raising his greatsword for a finishing blow when Ayla yelled, "Watch out!"

It was too late already, Alistair realized, as he looked up to the hill to Aedan's left, where a large white wolf was leaping down. It landed squarely on Aedan, knocking him flat on his back, several paces away from Swiftrunner. The wolf snarled, showing its teeth, its fur bristling as it stood between Aedan and the werewolf. Aedan regained his feet quickly, and Alistair moved to help him, but before either of them could attack, both the white wolf and Swiftrunner turned and fled after the other werewolf.

After a quick glance around to make sure there were no immediate threats nearby, Alistair went to rejoin Aedan, as did the others. Alistair caught Ayla's arm as they both reached Aedan, asking urgently, "Are you all right?"

She rolled her eyes at him, looking as though she was undecided if she was annoyed or pleased with him. "I'm fine, Alistair, truly. I did stay back like I promised, did I not?"

"I know, I'm just –" _terrified_ , popped unbidden into his mind, "checking," he finished lamely, letting go of her arm, wishing he had time to hold her again. Part of him wished that he could get her to agree to go back to base camp, but he knew she'd never go for it. The last thing he wanted to do was pursue the werewolves to their lair with her along, but he knew he had no choice at this point, and they needed her enhanced senses to help track them.

"Are you injured?" Morrigan demanded of Aedan, checking him over with quick efficiency.

He flashed her a quick grin. "Nothing I cannot handle. Worried about me, were you?"

Morrigan snorted, tossing her head. "Not at all. 'Tis merely part of my role as the only one with healing abilities here."

"In that case, my lovely witch, I believe I have an injury that needs tending," Zevran winked at her.

Morrigan scowled at him. "You have a healing potion, do you not? Use that, elf."

"Now that we're all ready," Aedan interrupted whatever Zevran had been about to say, obviously unable to stifle a grin, "we should keep going. We must be getting close to Witherfang; that white wolf that attacked me was what Zathrian said we should watch out for."

"I wish they would tell us what the Dalish have done," Ayla said, as they began to head in the direction the werewolves had fled. "It's obvious we do not have the whole story, but no one seems inclined to tell us."

"Maybe once we break into their lair, they will," Alistair suggested. He was hoping that they would be able to solve this without full-on war with the werewolves, both for Ayla's sake and his own; he didn't know how much more worry about her possible instant death from their bites he could take.

"We'll have to see," Aedan agreed. "I am certain there's much more going on here that what Zathrian told us."

They continued along the winding path that led through high hills and cliffs on either side, passing more and more pieces of ruins on the way, white marble walls and fallen pillars, until they came around a bend in the path and came face-to-face with the main ruins themselves, and more werewolves.

The first one to spot them shouted, "We are invaded! Intruders have deceived their way into the forest's heart! Fall back to the ruins! Protect the Lady!" It turned and fled into the ruins behind it, followed by the other werewolves, before Alistair and the others could so much as make a move to attack.

"Ah, here we go. The werewolves' lair, unless I miss my mark," Morrigan commented, gesturing to the ruins where they had fled.

"Who is this Lady they are talking about now?" Zevran mused. "I thought we were looking for a Witherfang, were we not?"

Aedan shrugged. "Only one way to find out, I suspect." He lead the way to the ruins, as the others followed.

The ruins were of an impressive size; though the main floor seemed to be only one story of white stone, a domed tower rose from the center of it, largely intact as it stretched towards the sky. An arched doorway marked the entrance that the werewolves had fled into. Unlike most of what they'd seen in the forest so far, this section appeared to be quite well preserved.

Almost immediately after entering the ruins, undead skeletons like the ones they'd run into Redcliffe appeared to either side of them. Alistair noted wryly that Ayla launched herself into the fight with gleeful enthusiasm, as did Zevran; both of them appeared almost ridiculously pleased to engage in close combat again. They cut down the undead with such speed that he and the others barely got to help.

Once the undead were defeated, they headed down a set of stairs into the main area of the dome. The large room here was showing some damage; the stone tiles of the floor were lifting to show dirt underneath, while in some places, trees had broken through and were growing out of the roof. Just as they reached the center of the room, beneath the domed roof, Ayla called out a warning, and more werewolves charged them from the right.

They took up their standard position when fighting the werewolves; Alistair and Aedan met them head on, while the other three provided support from behind. Fortunately, there was once again only three, and they managed to make it through the fight without any major difficulties once more.

"They came from that stairwell," Aedan noted, pointing to a doorway on the right side of the room. "Let's check it out."

He led the way through the entrance, Alistair and the others following behind. The stairwell was a long one, heading down several flights of narrow stairs. At the bottom, they came across a heavy stone door, but it was barred. As hard as both Aedan and Alistair tried, they couldn't get it open. Morrigan even aimed a blast at it, but the door remained intact.

"Well, that's marvellous," Alistair muttered. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Aedan turned to Ayla. "Are they through here?"

She nodded. "Definitely. The smell of them is the strongest it has been so far."

"Well, we shall have to find a way around," Zevran commented cheerfully. "These sorts of ruins are full of secret passages and alternate routes."

"The assassin is likely right," Morrigan agreed, adding scornfully, "for once. If we go back up, we may be able to find another way to the section where the werewolves are hiding."

"All right." Aedan turned and began heading back up the stairs. "Back up it is."

They made their way back up the stairs and to the main room. This time, they went straight forward and found a large set of double doors that they were able to get open, which led into a hallway. They began to follow the crumbling hallway along. The first fork in the hallway they reached had three branches off, but two were blocked, leaving them with the only way to go being forward.

So forward they went, and just around the corner, Aedan ran into a giant cobweb. Suddenly, the hallway was filled with giant spiders pouring out of tunnels in the walls, attacking them and flinging webs every which way. Though there were at least ten spiders, they went down fairly easily, and Alistair and the others were able to defeat them without anyone coming to serious harm.

"What in the name of the Goddess were those?" Ayla demanded, shuddering with disgust as she attempted to brush off cobwebs and spider blood.

"Don't tell me the brave warrior Ayla is scared of spiders," Alistair teased, picking a cobweb out of her hair as he smirked down at her.

"No," she protested, swatting at his hand. "I have just never seen any that size before. They aren't meant to come in that size; it's disgusting."

"You have seen me change form into a spider that size," Morrigan pointed out, as she healed a bite wound Aedan had picked up in the fight. "Surely it cannot have come as that much of a shock."

"Yes, but I didn't realize that was based on the size of an actual spider," Ayla grumbled as she wiped off her swords. "Anything else about them I need to know?"

"Don't let them bite you," Aedan offered, straight-faced. "Some of them are poisonous also. Lucky for me, this one wasn't."

"Do not worry, my dear," Zevran reassured her, obviously noting the slightly panicked look on her face Alistair had seen also. "As a Crow, I can make the antidote for any poison."

"That is . . . good to know," Ayla replied, looking slightly green as she kicked a spider corpse out of her way. "Let's keep going, shall we?"

As they continued on their way through the hallway, Aedan in the lead again, Alistair leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Don't worry, my lady. I'll protect you from the spiders."

She whirled around to glare up at him, though her lips twitched in amusement as he offered her an innocent smile. "Not necessary, good ser, but thank you." She offered him a mock curtsy in turn, which only made him smile wider, before they continued on. Some of the tension had drained out of him during the banter, he realized; he wasn't feeling quite so worried anymore, which was a relief.

They made their way through the ruins, following several crumbling hallways past small rooms, some of which contained treasure for them to loot, and going down several flights of stairs. They continued to run into groups of undead on their way through, as well as spotting actual spirits a couple of times, who spoke in a tongue none of them recognized. They even ran across a small dragon in one area; though they received a few burn marks and bites in the battle, Morrigan and her potions were able to take care of everything once the dragon had fallen to their blades.

Alistair could only thank the Maker it wasn't a high dragon; he had no idea what they would have done had they run into one of those. They'd had enough trouble with this fight; he and Aedan had kept it busy, while Zevran and Ayla had worried its flanks and leapt on and off its back to deal blows, and Morrigan had cast ice spells to counteract the flames. Zevran had finally dealt the finishing blow to its neck, which had caused him to gloat to Ayla, saying that they should start keeping track. She had actually agreed, and they had spent several minutes arguing their way through a points system as they walked.

Alistair couldn't help but feel a little jealous over that, as irrational as it was. Anything that brought those two closer together worried him. Though Zevran had stopped for the most part with the outright flirting, Alistair still caught the interest in his eyes when he looked at Ayla. He wasn't fooled for a moment into thinking that the elf wouldn't try to steal her away if she allowed it. The only thing that had made him feel better so far was that Ayla appeared to truly only view the elf as a friend; the heat in her gaze she reserved for him, though he had no idea how he'd gotten that lucky. He reminded himself to focus on what was really important, though, which wasn't Zevran but getting through these ruins in one piece.

Finally, after fighting their way past what Morrigan said was an Arcane Horror, a being of frightful magic almost as hard to defeat as a Revenant, and more undead in a large rectangular room, they found an unusual pool of dark, opaque water in a side room.

"This reeks of werewolves," Ayla announced, looking down at the pool in the center of the floor.

"Then this must be the alternate route we were looking for," Aedan replied. "I suppose we have no choice but to see where it leads."

So saying, Aedan shrugged and jumped into the pool, immediately sinking like a stone and disappearing. Alistair exchanged an anxious look with the others.

"'Tis likely a magical pool," Morrigan said at last, though Alistair noted she looked a little worried. "Simply a portal to another area."

After a quick glance at Ayla, Alistair jumped through next. If there were any werewolves on the other side, he was not letting her go through first. He held his breath as he sunk like a stone, just as Aedan had; absolute blackness went by his eyes, before he realized he was falling quite a bit faster than one would through water. Suddenly, blinding light hit his eyes and a few short seconds later, he crashed to the stone floor of another room, lit by torches as most of the other areas had been so far.

He looked up, dazed, and noted Aedan leaning against a wall to the side, chuckling. "Graceful landing you had there, Alistair."

"Shut up," Alistair returned good-naturedly. "I doubt your landing was any better."

Aedan shrugged and grinned. Alistair had managed to sit up, but before he could get to his feet, Ayla suddenly landed on top of him. He nearly fell backwards, but was able to catch himself with one arm while the other wrapped around her, steadying her.

"Well, that wasn't quite what I was expecting," she said breathlessly. She looked up at him and smiled. "Good catch, as always, though."

"Well, I'm happy it's you, and not an elven assassin," he replied. Suddenly realizing that could happen at any second, he scooped her up as he scrambled to his feet and moved out of the way, just before Zevran came crashing down.

"Well, that hurt rather more than I expected," the elf commented dryly. As in Alistair's case, though, before he'd even got to his feet, Morrigan landed on top of him. This time, however, Morrigan succeeded in flattening him on his back.

Aedan dissolved into outright laughter at this, barely able to keep himself standing, and Alistair couldn't help chuckling either, noticing that Ayla was laughing as well. Maker, but he loved to hear her laugh; he hadn't heard it nearly enough recently.

Meanwhile, Zevran was complaining loudly about how much it had hurt to have Morrigan land on top of him, though Alistair noticed that his hands had managed to roam all over her at the same time, prompting Morrigan to loudly declare, "Remove your hands from me, elf, if you wish to keep them."

"Ah, of course, my lovely witch," the elf replied, innocently holding his hands out to the side. "Being injured so has addled my wits, I'm afraid."

Morrigan stood up gracefully, snapping, "Be careful I do not injure you further." She stalked over to Aedan, who was now bracing himself on his knees, trying to regain his breath. "And just what do you find so amusing?"

"Oh, I believe our fearless leader is in trouble now," Alistair whispered to Ayla as he set her down carefully on her feet. "Am I?"

She tilted her head as though considering, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she looked up at him. "No, I don't think so. Not yet, anyway." She leaned up on her toes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He restrained himself from the urge to deepen it as she backed away, smiling. "I'll let you know when you are."

He couldn't help smiling as they re-grouped and began to make their way through the new section. For some reason, he was feeling inexplicably light-hearted now; it never ceased to amaze him how easily she could brighten his mood. He made sure not to lower his guard, however, particularly when they ran into another group of werewolves who attacked them on sight. Fortunately, these ones attacked them in a narrow section of hallway, and it was easy for him and Aedan to keep them away from the others until they were defeated.

After making their way through several more hallways and down several more flights of stairs, they finally pushed their way through a set of doors to meet another three werewolves in a semi-circular room. These ones were merely waiting for them, and did not attack them on sight. Instead, the lead wolf restrained his growling friends and cried out, "Stop! Brothers and sisters, be at ease! We do not wish any more of our people hurt. I ask you this now, outsider: are you willing to parley?"

Aedan, though he looked taken aback at this sudden change of events, nodded firmly. "Of course. We have been trying to talk all along. So talk to us, please."

The werewolf shook his head. "Not with me. I have been sent to you on behalf of the Lady. She believes that you may not be aware of everything you should be. She means you no harm, provided your willingness to parley in peace is an honest one." He fixed Aedan and the others with a glare at this, as though he still doubted their intentions.

"I assure you, we honestly wish to bring this to a peaceful conclusion, if at all possible," Aedan replied formally, before continuing, "If you were willing to talk, why wouldn't you do so earlier?"

"Swiftrunner did not think it would matter. The Lady disagrees, and since you have forced your way this far, we must acquiesce to her wishes."

Aedan nodded. "Then, please, take us to this Lady."

"Follow me," the werewolf gestured as he turned towards the door behind him. "But I warn you, if you break your promise and harm her, I will come back from the Fade itself to see you pay."

They followed the werewolves as they went through the door. Alistair sincerely hoped that whoever this Lady was, she could help them resolve this peacefully. He wanted nothing more than to get Ayla and the others out of this forest intact and alive. He could only pray it would work out that way.


	20. The Nature of The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party meets with the Lady and finds out that there is much Zathrian didn't tell them about the curse. After confronting Zathrian, they bring him back to the Lady to try to end the conflict, only to have Zathrian refuse to break the curse. A battle begins, and the fight does not go as well as the party had hoped; one of them is gravely injured.

Chapter 20: The Nature of the Beast

As they entered the next room, the first thing Alistair noticed was the large group of werewolves waiting across the room for them, headed by Swiftrunner. Upon their entry, all the werewolves began roaring and growling, straining forward, but never actually moving from their place on a circular dais of stone. As before, Aedan and Alistair were in the lead, and Alistair made sure he was in front of Ayla as they stopped several yards away from the werewolves.

As they stopped, Alistair noticed that a woman – if she could be called that – was weaving her way forward between the werewolves, calming them with a touch of her hand. She was naked, with green-toned skin, long, dark hair that covered most of her torso, and completely black eyes. Much of her lower body was wrapped in vines. By the time she made it to the front of the group of werewolves, they were almost completely calm.

She nodded to their group, speaking in an eerie, echoing sort of voice, much like a spirit's. "I bid you welcome, mortals. I am the Lady of the Forest."

Though Alistair noted that Aedan looked rather astonished, that didn't stop him from greeting the Lady in his usual courtly manner, as he bowed and replied, "Thank you, I am glad we have this chance to talk."

"Do not listen to him, Lady!" Swiftrunner roared, lunging forward to stand next to her. Alistair put a hand to the hilt of his sword, watching warily. "He will betray you! We must attack him now!"

The Lady turned to the werewolf next to her, almost sternly. "Hush, Swiftrunner. Your urge for battle has only seen the death of the very ones you have been trying to save. Is that what you want?"

The werewolf hung his head, like a small boy being scolded by his mother. "No, my Lady. Anything but that."

The Lady turned back to them. "Then the time has come to speak with these outsiders, to set our rage aside." She bowed formally to them. "I apologize on Swiftrunner's behalf. He struggles with his nature."

"No need to apologize, Lady. I know what that is like," Ayla replied, from where she had come up next to Alistair again, completely disregarding his attempts to keep her safe, as usual. He sighed. The only thing that made him feel better was the Lady's willingness to talk, as well as her apparent complete control over the werewolves.

"Yes, I suppose you do, don't you?" the Lady murmured, her gaze narrowing sharply on Ayla.

"You lead the werewolves, then, do you?" Aedan asked, turning the Lady's attention back to him.

The Lady shook her head. "Those whom I have helped are very grateful for what I have done for them. I offer them guidance, but I do not command them. No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you."

 _No kidding_ , Alistair thought sarcastically, at the same moment as Aedan said, "We had thought as much. Would you mind explaining to us exactly what is going on here?"

In spite of the fact that Alistair had known very well Zathrian was lying to them, it still came as a shock when the Lady explained, "It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer, the same curse that Zathrian's own people now suffer."

Everybody could only stare at her in open-mouthed shock as she continued, "Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then. He had a son and daughter he loved greatly, and while out hunting, the human tribe captured them both."

Alistair winced, able to guess what was coming next even as Swiftrunner took up the tale, in tones of surprising regret, "The humans . . . tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her, but she learned later she was . . . with child. She . . . killed herself."

"So that was when Zathrian cursed them, I take it?" Aedan asked quietly.

The Lady nodded in response. "Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be. Witherfang hunted the humans of the tribe. Many were killed, but others were . . . cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures."

The Lady hung her head, shaking it slowly before continuing, "Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is. They were driven into the forest. When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained, pitiful and mindless animals."

"Until I found you, my Lady. You gave me peace," Swiftrunner stated, in an almost gentle tone. Alistair felt almost bad for him. He didn't know who to feel sorrier for in this twisted tale. Though the humans had done an inexcusable thing, Zathrian's response had been no better, and both sides had obviously suffered.

The Lady stroked Swiftrunner's head gently, smiling down at him. "I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature. I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. And he brought others to me."

Aedan looked like he didn't know quite what to make of the tale, either, as he questioned, "Why did you ambush the Dalish, then? For revenge?"

The Lady narrowed her eyes at him, shrewdly. "In part. We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago by those who are long dead. Word was sent to Zathrian every time the landships passed this way, asking him to come, but he has always ignored us. We will no longer be denied."

Swiftrunner's rage was obviously renewed as he shouted, "We spread the curse to his people! So he must end the curse to save them!"

The Lady turned a pleading look on them. "Please, mortals . . . you must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, hears their plight . . . surely he will agree to end the curse!"

Alistair doubted that. There was obviously a reason Zathrian had chosen to ignore the werewolves all this time, and hadn't bothered to tell them the true nature of the curse either. The elf didn't seem to be finished with his revenge, despite how many years had apparently passed.

Aedan shook his head regretfully, clearly thinking the same thing Alistair was. "I think he just wishes to cure his own people, nothing else."

"He will never break the curse, my lady!" Swiftrunner snarled, flinging his clawed hands wide. "He will never allow it! You know this!"

"We . . . cannot know that," the Lady replied in desperate tones. "Surely his rage does not run so deep he would endanger his own clan! If Zathrian comes, I shall summon Witherfang. I possess that power." She pierced Aedan with an intense look. "I also have the power to ensure Witherfang is never found. Tell Zathrian this. If he does not come, if he does not break the curse, he will never find Witherfang, and he will never cure his people."

Aedan glanced questioningly back at Alistair and the others. Alistair nodded in reply, just as the others did, before Aedan turned back. "Very well. We will go to Zathrian and tell him this."

"We will make sure that he comes to break the curse, so that no one suffers any longer," Ayla said firmly. Alistair took her hand gently, knowing that this topic was likely hitting close to home for her. She looked up at him gratefully, squeezing his hand back before letting it go.

The Lady nodded. "Then we shall await your return. Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you." She gestured to her right, indicating a door in the stone wall. "Return with Zathrian as soon as you can."

Aedan nodded, then began leading the others towards the passageway, filing carefully past the werewolves. Sunlight was streaming through holes in the roof of the chamber made by trees that had grown through, indicating it was still daylight outside. Though Alistair was certain they had been in here the better part of the day, it had obviously not been long enough for night to have fallen.

Once they were through the door and had gone up several flights of narrow, crumbling stairs, Aedan stopped, turning to the others. "What does everybody think? Are we doing the right thing here?"

"I think it's better to see if we can talk Zathrian into breaking the curse than starting an all-out war with the werewolves," Alistair replied. "And who knows what kind of power that Lady has."

"'Tis true," Morrigan agreed. "She is a powerful spirit, that much is obvious. She may be also be Witherfang herself; spirits can often take on more than one aspect. 'Twould be wise not to cross her if it could be avoided."

"Besides, the werewolves have clearly suffered with the curse long enough," Ayla added. "Not to mention, Zathrian's own people are now suffering, innocent people who have nothing to do with what happened, and he still does nothing."

Zevran nodded, the assassin's face looking unusually grave. "He wishes for other people to do his dirty work for him so he may keep his hands clean. Perhaps he should be made to deal with his own mess."

"Good." Aedan nodded, looking pleased. "That is what I thought myself; I just wanted to confirm it with all of you. I hope it does not take us long to get back to the Dalish camp and find Zathrian."

They continued up, going up several more flights of stairs before coming across a large, heavy door. After passing through, they realized it was probably the door they had originally tried to break through to get to the werewolves. Sure enough, after going up a few more sets of stairs, they went through another door and discovered they were in the main room of the ruins.

What was even more surprising was the fact that Zathrian was there, crouched over the body of the one of the werewolves they'd killed earlier, inspecting it. They started towards him; he stood up and faced them, without the slightest bit of surprise on his face. "Ah. And here you are already."

Aedan stopped, frowning. "Zathrian? What are you doing here?"

Zathrian shrugged. "You have carved a safe path through the forest . . . safe enough for me to follow, anyhow."

Morrigan chuckled as she stopped by Aedan. "He wishes to see if we did his work for him. Is that not why you are here now, sorcerer?"

"Do not call me that, witch," Zathrian snapped at her. "I am keeper of this clan, and have done what I must. Did you acquire the heart?" he demanded of Aedan.

Aedan scowled, his face dark with anger, looking almost as though he wanted to reach for his sword. His reaction surprised Alistair; he wasn't sure what had caused the sudden anger to break through Aedan's normal courteous façade. "Do not call her that! She is our companion. And no, we have not acquired the heart."

"And no doubt your lover, as well," Zathrian sniffed scornfully. Alistair noticed the sudden flare of color on Aedan's face, indicating the elf had guessed correctly, though Morrigan's face remained as impassive as ever. Well, wasn't that interesting, he thought. He had suspected that Aedan might have progressed past flirting with the witch, but hadn't seen anything to confirm his suspicions until now. "But no matter," Zathrian waved his hand dismissively. "You say you did not acquire the heart? May I ask, then, why are you leaving the ruin?"

Aedan's jaw clenched tightly as he obviously struggled to keep his temper. "So you knew about this ruin. Why didn't you tell us?"

Zathrian shrugged carelessly again, clearly not caring that he was annoying the entire group. "There was no need. I knew you would find it, and I did not care to give you a history lesson about things that have no bearing on your purpose here. But it seems the spirit convinced you to act on her behalf. Might I inquire what she wants?"

Ayla was scowling darkly, clearly no more impressed than Aedan had been with Zathrian. Alistair was getting increasingly annoyed with the elf's high-handed arrogance himself. They were doing _him_ a favour, not the other way around. "It seems there was a great deal you knew that you felt no need to tell us," Ayla snapped. "Things which do, in fact, have great bearing on our purpose here, especially since this is the werewolves' lair."

"Yes," Aedan agreed, seeming to have succeeded in calming himself down for the most part, though his hands were still clenched. "Many difficulties could have been prevented if you had just told us what you knew from the beginning. But since you are here anyway . . . she has said she will not summon Witherfang unless you break the curse."

Zathrian looked at them all with condescending amusement. "You do understand that she actually is Witherfang?"

"Yes, we had thought as much," Aedan returned coolly, though Alistair didn't miss the tension in his stance indicating he'd started to lose control of his temper again. "It does not matter, though. She has the power to keep Witherfang away, either way."

"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago and bound in the body of the wolf," Zathrian explained, almost as though he felt the need to boast about his accomplishment now. "Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being. The curse came first from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming savage beast as well as human."

"But the werewolves have regained their minds," Aedan interrupted impatiently. "They speak as humans, now."

"I find that difficult to believe," Zathrian snorted. "They attacked my clan and they were the same savages then that they have ever been. They deserve to be wiped out and not defended."

"So you say. Others may not agree with you," Aedan retorted evenly, crossing his arms as he glared the elf down. Alistair was in complete agreement with him; the more Zathrian talked, the less sympathy he felt for the elf's part in all of this.

"Come. I will accompany you back to the ruin," Zathrian said, completely ignoring Aedan. "Let us go and speak to the spirit and I will force her into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain and the heart taken."

"I am normally not one to deny others their revenge," Ayla interjected, stepping in front of Zathrian, "but when it begins to affect those you care about, even I know it's time to stop."

"She's right," Alistair agreed, unable to take the elf's arrogance any longer. "You have gone too far with this."

"We will not help you do that," Aedan stated firmly.

"If you do not help me get the heart, then my hunters are not cured and you get no assistance against the darkspawn," Zathrian retorted, eying Aedan and Alistair shrewdly.

Damn it, Alistair thought. Much as he'd really like to tell the elf what he could do with his assistance, he knew they needed the elves' help badly. Aedan sighed, obviously thinking the same thing as he rubbed a hand over his face before saying, "You can at least meet with them; that's what I propose."

"And what if it is revenge they want, and not talk?" Zathrian demanded. "Will you safeguard me from harm?"

Aedan nodded slowly, reluctantly, Alistair thought. "We will, unless you attack them first. Then you are on your own."

"I fail to see the purpose behind this . . . but very well," Zathrian threw his hands up in the air. "It has been many centuries, now. Let us see what the spirit has to say."

He stalked off ahead of them, heading unerringly for the door that led back the way they had come. "Such a pleasant man," Zevran remarked sarcastically, watching him go. "He makes me truly glad I did not stay with the Dalish."

"Yes, I suspect you'd have difficulty taking orders from him, Zev," Aedan said wryly. "Let's get this over with." He followed after Zathrian, and the rest of them fell into step with him. \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

In no time, it seemed, they were back in the room where they had left the Lady and her werewolves. Zathrian swept forward, head high, scorn written all over his face as he stared at her. "So, here you are, spirit."

Swiftrunner came racing forward, so fast Alistair actually reached for his sword, since they were unfortunately standing with Zathrian, and roared directly into Zathrian's face, "She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly!" To his credit, Zathrian didn't flinch, even with an enraged werewolf in his face.

"Peace, Swiftrunner," the Lady said softly, and the werewolf backed up, reluctantly.

"You've taken a name, spirit? And you've given names to your pets? These . . . beasts who follow you?" Zathrian asked, his tone still dripping with scorn.

"It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian," the Lady replied with admirable patience. "And the names they take are their own. They follow me because I help them to find who they are."

"Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were. Wild savages! Worthless dogs!" Zathrian shouted back, his face red with rage. "Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!"

Swiftrunner turned to look at the Lady. "He will not help us, Lady! It is as I warned you! He is not here to talk!"

Oh, great, Alistair thought, exchanging an anxious glance with Aedan. Now they were about to get in the middle of a free-for-all between Zathrian and the werewolves. How exactly had they ended up in the middle of this, again?

But he was surprised when Zathrian sighed and said, "No, I am here to talk, though I see little point in it. We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine."

"It does not have to be that way," the Lady replied determinedly. "There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely your retribution is spent."

Zathrian shook his head. "My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more."

The Lady looked at him, a calculating expression in her eyes. "Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortal how it was created?" She glanced at Aedan.

Aedan frowned, glancing at Zathrian before replying, "He said he summoned you and bound you to a wolf."

The Lady nodded, as Alistair wondered just where this was going now. "And so he did. Witherfang and I are bound as one being. But such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian's own blood. Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true. So long as the curse exists, so do you."

 _Blood magic?_ Alistair thought scornfully, glaring at Zathrian. Just when he'd thought his opinion of the elf could not get lower, there it went. No wonder the curse was so terrible, if it was created of blood magic. And he was using it to prolong his own life, into the bargain.

"No, that is not how it is!" Zathrian protested, but the stricken look on his face said otherwise.

"Just how far will you go for your revenge, Zathrian?" Aedan demanded, eyes narrowed, arms crossed.

"I did it for my people!" Zathrian snapped back at him. "I did it for my son, and my daughter! For them, for justice, I would do anything!"

"The curse would not end with Zathrian's death," the Lady said calmly, ignoring the turmoil her revelation had caused. "His life, however, relies on its existence. And I believe his death plays a part in its ending."

"Then we kill him!" Swiftrunner roared. "We tear him apart now!"

"For all your powers of speech, you are beasts still! What would you gain from killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!" Zathrian yelled back at him.

"You see?" Swiftrunner snarled, turning to the Lady. "We must kill them all!"

"See?" Zathrian turned to Aedan, a smug smile forming across his face. "They turn on you as quickly. Do what you have come here to do, Grey Wardens, or get out of my way."

Aedan straightened his shoulders, facing the elf down. "We will not help you do this, Zathrian."

"We're standing for what's right, here," Alistair declared, in complete agreement with Aedan. No way was he backing a revenge-crazed blood mage who was now endangering his own people. "No matter what."

Ayla nodded, smiling in approval at Alistair. "We will not help you further their suffering and that of your own people for your revenge anymore."

"Then you die with them! All of you will suffer as you deserve!" Zathrian declared, rage filling his features as he raised his arms, the twisted staff he bore in one of his hands. Alistair could feel the magic gathering around him as his staff began to glow, and the trees gathered around the circular room came to life.

The party leapt into action, drawing their own weapons and springing back from Zathrian. Alistair noticed as he did so that the Lady was changing form, in much the same way Ayla had, her body shimmering as it changed into that of the white wolf they had seen earlier. The wolf let out a howl, echoed by the werewolves, as they started to leap forward.

Zathrian shouted something, bringing his staff down with a crack, and the Lady froze in a column of light, as did many of the werewolves, unable to move. Meanwhile, the trees around the room had begun lumbering forward, coming to Zathrian's aid.

"Alistair!" Aedan shouted. "You and I will take him on! The rest of you, try to keep those trees busy!"

Alistair nodded, beginning to gather his concentration to try to smite Zathrian. He'd been working to build his Templar abilities, but without taking lyrium, he didn't know how effective he would be against someone like Zathrian. But he would do what he could without it; he wasn't about to succumb to lyrium addiction.

Aedan rushed forward, swinging his sword at Zathrian, trying to keep the mage busy and off-balance. His sword bounced off a magic shield Zathrian had produced, but the bolt Zathrian sent back at him likewise bounced off a shield Morrigan had obviously cast around Aedan. Alistair could feel a similar one envelop him a second later.

He continued gathering his energy, watching out of the corner of his eye as the other three engaged the trees, with the help of the few werewolves that weren't frozen. They used the combination of Morrigan's fire spells and flame-covered weapons to help take down the first tree. Alistair finished gathering the energy, and brought the smite down full-bore on Zathrian, taking care to keep it from hitting Morrigan as well. Fortunately, she was well out of his range at this point.

Zathrian grunted and staggered, but didn't fall, ignoring Aedan's continued attacks which bounced harmlessly off his shield. "Pretending to be a Templar, are we?" he sneered at Alistair. "You lack the power to bring me down."

He shot a lightning bolt at Alistair, which he just managed to block with his shield, though it sent him staggering back several steps and sent a shockwave up his arm. The only reason he wasn't electrocuted completely was because he'd managed to throw out a quick dispel to somewhat counteract the effects. He started forward to engage Zathrian in close combat, working up the energy for another smite. Even if his smites weren't powerful enough to take him down, surely continual hits would eventually zap the energy of the elf mage.

Just as he reached Zathrian, one of Aedan's blows finally cracked through the elf's shield. The elf quickly managed to block the blow with his staff, proving he'd had a little combat training as well, and simultaneously sent an arcane bolt from his other hand at Aedan. Though it didn't succeed in penetrating Aedan's own shield, it did force him back several feet.

His distraction from dealing with Aedan, however, had allowed Alistair to get close enough to deal a blow of his own, slicing down across the elf's left arm that he had shot the bolt at Aedan with. Zathrian cried out, and blasted Alistair back several steps with another bolt, before gathering energy to quickly heal his arm. Alistair took advantage of this opportunity to hit him with another smite. This time, Zathrian staggered and went down on one knee, though his healing spell continued uninterrupted.

However, Aedan had reached him again by this time and swung down. The elf had managed to regain his feet and blocked the blow with his staff again, but didn't block the kick Aedan directed to his mid-section at the same time. Zathrian groaned and staggered back again, not before once more blasting Aedan back with a bolt.

It was at this precise moment, as Alistair was racing forward to help Aedan, that he heard it. An agonized scream that froze him in his tracks even as the very blood in his veins froze. He whipped around, and saw Ayla in the clutches of one of the trees, just as Aedan had been, screaming as it squeezed the life from her.

"Ayla!" he cried, as terrible fear and grief crashed through him. He was too far away; he wouldn't get to her in time. No, he couldn't lose her now, not like this! His head was whirling in panic; he didn't know what to do, what to think.

A sudden small bit of relief penetrated him as he realized Morrigan and Zevran had come to her aid; Morrigan had lit the tree on fire and Zevran had cut the limb, forcing it to let go of her. He'd caught her and was taking her away as Morrigan mercilessly finished the tree off.

Alistair had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted to go to her side right then and there. But as he heard Aedan's pained grunt from behind him, he knew he couldn't do it. _Focus, Alistair. Keep your head cool until the end of the battle. Then you can worry about everything else._ Duncan's long-ago scolding from training drifted through his mind. Zevran and Morrigan would do everything they could to help her. He needed to help Aedan, and finish the battle by taking out the person responsible for this whole mess.

Black rage started to swirl through him as he turned back around, all his anguish now focused on one target: Zathrian. He stalked forward, blasting Zathrian with a smite powered with all his fury, which made the mage cry out and fall to both knees. Aedan was standing nearby, clutching a hole blasted in his armor, staring as Alistair blasted Zathrian twice more before he reached him. Without pausing, Alistair slammed Zathrian's staff and arm aside with his shield, kicked him in the gut with one steel-booted foot, and then smashed him in the face with his gauntleted fist and the pommel of his sword. Zathrian reeled, looking dazed, but didn't go down quite yet.

However, he had dropped his staff and was pleading, hands up in the air as blood poured from his nose. Alistair paused for a second, trying to hear what he was saying over the roaring of black anger in his brain. He couldn't make it out, but suddenly Aedan was in front of him, shouting something.

After a second, it penetrated his brain. "Stop, Alistair, stop! We need him alive to break the curse! He's down, you can stop!"

Finally, what Zathrian was saying came through as well. "No, no more," he stammered. "I . . . I cannot . . . cannot defeat you . . ."

"It's his fault!" Alistair snarled, feeling the strongest urge to run the pleading mage through with his sword. Only Aedan standing between them and the logic of what he'd just said was stopping him. "It was his curse, his _blood magic_ , that made all this happen, that got Ayla . . ." he couldn't finish his sentence. Hurt? Killed? He didn't even know!

"Peace, my Warden friend." It was Zevran, he saw as he turned around, his heart seized with fear. "She is hurt and unconscious, yes, but she is alive. Morrigan tends to her as we speak."

"She's . . . alive?" He echoed faintly, relief crashing through him, making him feel like he could breathe again. Zevran nodded in confirmation, and Alistair almost felt like collapsing with the sudden dizzying joy.

His thoughts were interrupted by Swiftrunner snarling, "Finish it! Kill him now!"

He turned back to see that the werewolves and the Lady had all approached the beaten Zathrian and Aedan, the magic that had been holding them still having apparently disappeared. A glance around the room confirmed that there were no more walking trees, either, and he could see Morrigan kneeling by Ayla across the room, casting magic. He turned back to Zathrian, still struck with the urge to bring him down, though Aedan shook his head as his hand tightened on his sword.

"No, Swiftrunner," the Lady said softly, restraining the werewolf even as Aedan had done to him. "We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect there to be room in his?"

Zathrian looked up at the Lady, blood still trickling down his face, shaking his head. "I cannot do as you ask, spirit. I am too old . . . to know mercy. All I see are the faces of my children, my people. I . . . I cannot do it."

Aedan whirled around to look at him, demanding, "Is that true? If you were really concerned about your people, you'd end the curse. Are you sure you're just not afraid of dying?"

Alistair stalked forward, still filled with rage at the arrogant elf that had caused so much harm. "Look at what your revenge has wrought, all the innocent people killed or hurt because of it," he growled, pointing to where Morrigan was healing Ayla, his whole body shaking with fury. "Stop the curse now or I will make you stop."

Zathrian followed his hand, then hung his head. "Perhaps I have . . . lived too long. This hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root . . . it has consumed my soul." He looked back up at the Lady. "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

The Lady smiled, suddenly, beautifully, the sight actually calming Alistair's roiling feelings somewhat. "You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life. Yet of all things, I desire nothing more than an end." She bowed her head, clasping her hands in front of her. "I beg you, maker . . . put an end to me. We beg you . . . show mercy."

Still kneeling on the ground, Zathrian hung his head again. "You shame me, spirit. I am an old man, alive long past his time."

The Lady looked at him with sudden hope. "Then you will do it? You will end the curse?"

Zathrian got to his feet, slowly, painfully, using his staff to get himself up. Alistair tightened his hand on his sword again, ready for any last minute trickery. "Yes, I think it is time. Let us . . . let us put an end to it all," the elf said tiredly. The end of his staff lit up with blue flame as he spoke. With a sudden motion, he slammed the staff down, causing the blue light to flare up, and then he collapsed, crumbling to the ground.

The werewolves all reached for the Lady, who was standing only a few feet from Zathrian's collapsed body, hands clasped before her as she stared at Zathrian with hope in her eyes. Her body suddenly flared with a blinding golden light, so bright that Alistair had to turn away as the room filled with it. When he turned back, sheathing his sword finally, he noticed she was gone, and the werewolves were lighting up as well, each with golden light. As the light disappeared, it revealed a group of ragged, dishevelled humans where there had once been werewolves.

Alistair could only stare in astonishment, as did Aedan and Zevran. He couldn't believe that the werewolves had truly once been humans. They couldn't seem to believe it either, as they stared at each other and their own hands and bodies in wonderment.

Finally, the man standing in front, who had a brown hair and beard, said in disbelief, "It's . . . over. She's gone, and . . . we're human. I can scarcely believe it."

"I can hardly believe it either," Aedan admitted. "So what are you going to do now?"

The man glanced back at the others before nodding. "We'll leave the forest, I suppose. Find other humans, see what's out there for us. It should be quite interesting, don't you think?" He bowed low to the three of them. "Thank you. We . . . we'll never forget you. We are sorry for what happened to her," he added, gesturing towards Ayla and Morrigan. "She was only trying to help us. I hope she will be all right."

"Thank you," Alistair replied softly, trying to squash the crippling grief and fear that wanted to come back up. "I hope she will be, too."

The group of former werewolves turned and filed out the door that led back up to the surface. Alistair gave in to the urge finally and raced to Ayla's side, dropping to his knees next to her. She was indeed unconscious, her eyes closed, her face pale, bruises blooming along all the exposed parts of her body, but she was breathing steadily. "Will she – will she be okay?" he stammered, looking at Morrigan, who was no longer casting.

"I believe she will be," Morrigan replied, her tone surprisingly gentle. "I have used all my remaining magic and potions on her, and she has stabilized. She merely requires time and rest now, perhaps some further healing when I have restored my magic. But she is stronger than she looks; she will make it through."

"My apologies, my friend," Zevran said quietly. "There were too many of those trees; I did not see the one that caught her, nor did she, I think."

"It's not your fault," Alistair murmured, surprised at the assassin's sincerity. No, it was his fault. He was the one who had promised himself he'd protect her no matter what, hadn't he? He touched her face gently, brushing some of her loose hair back. He'd kept her safe from the werewolves, but had failed to keep her away from a danger they all knew about, the trees that had nearly gotten Aedan before. How could he have been so careless?

"It isn't your fault, either, Alistair, if that's what you're thinking," Aedan said sternly. Alistair looked up at him. "We are all in danger in battle, all the time, and no one can keep anyone else, even themselves, completely safe. It is not possible, and if you try, you'll just get yourself and everyone else killed." His tone gentled as he went on, looking down at Morrigan, who didn't notice, "I know how you feel. But you have to stow it during battle, or otherwise this whole mission of ours will fail. Can you keep it together?"

Alistair sighed, hanging his head. He knew Aedan was right; he could see the hole still dribbling blood in Aedan's armor that had likely been caused by his inattention. He would have to try to trust Ayla to take care of herself, and only help her if he wasn't engaged in his own fight. He dug out the two healing potions he still had in his pouch, tossing them to Aedan. "Drink those. And yes, I can keep it together, I promise you. I'll keep my focus from now on."

Aedan nodded, downing the two potions quickly. "Good. Actually, you did fairly well this time; I just needed to make sure it would stay that way next time. We should get back to the Dalish camp as soon as possible; I'll wager that Lanaya knows healing spells as well. She'll need to know what happened to Zathrian, anyway."

"We will not make it back there tonight," Zevran observed, "but we should at least be able to make it out of these ruins by nightfall, no? Let us get started, shall we?"

They all got to their feet, and after strapping his shield to his back, Alistair lifted Ayla in his arms carefully. They began to make their way back out of the ruins. Alistair prayed to the Maker and Andraste as they went that Ayla would truly be fine. One thing he had realized when he thought she might die was that he was not falling in love with her; he had already fallen. He could not lose her now; he didn't think he would survive it.


	21. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair talks to Aedan about his feelings for Ayla and what to do about them; Alistair confesses to Ayla how worried he was about her when she finally wakes up, and he makes an important decision. Ayla thinks about her own feelings for Alistair, which have become more complicated than she ever wanted. She spots Aedan going through his pack, and sees that he has Alistair's mother's amulet. She gives the amulet to Alistair, prompting him to confess his feelings to her; not knowing her own feelings, she has no idea how to react.

Chapter 21: Feelings

Alistair had taken first watch after they'd left the ruins; they'd stopped just outside the entrance and decided to make camp there, as it was already dark and they were all exhausted. Additionally, the ruins and the surrounding hills provided decent shelter, and most threats should only be able to come at them from one direction. They'd eaten quickly, and he'd offered to keep watch while the others slept, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep until Ayla woke up, and possibly not even then.

She had still not regained consciousness by the time Aedan came to relieve him from watch; Alistair had checked briefly on her several times during his watch to no avail. It had been difficult to keep himself focused, but he'd managed to keep from staying with her the entire time. Now that his watch was done, he intended to stay with her until he saw her open her eyes again.

Aedan clapped him on the shoulder as he came to take over for him at the edge of the campsite. "You should try to get some sleep, Alistair. You look exhausted."

He shook his head. "I don't think I can right now. I'll just stay with her until she wakes up." His eyes fell on the hole in Aedan's armor. The wound was closed now, but he could not help the wave of guilt that fell over him every time he saw it. "I'm sorry about that," he nodded to the wound. "You wouldn't have gotten hurt if it hadn't been for me."

Aedan shook his head dismissively. "Don't worry about it. It was a momentary lapse; it could have happened to anyone. What's important is that you still came to help me, though I know you would have much rather gone to her. I don't know that I would have managed to do so well in your place." His eyes went to where Morrigan was sleeping, curled up in her blanket, as far away from Zevran as she could get in the small area.

Alistair followed his gaze and regarded Aedan thoughtfully. "About that, just how serious are you about Morrigan?"

Aedan turned back to him, staring at him with an unreadable look on his face. "As serious as you are about Ayla."

Alistair took a step back, shocked. "What?! Are you serious? But I'm – I love Ayla," he blurted. His jaw dropped when Aedan merely nodded in response. "But – Aedan – you can't possibly - she's a Witch of the Wilds!"

Aedan sighed, scanning the area around them before turning his attention back to Alistair. "I know you two hate each other. But even you must realize that she's not as heartless as she pretends to be. She's not _just_ a Witch of the Wilds. I certainly didn't plan or expect this – but there's nothing I can or would do about it now. You of all people should know that."

Alistair stared at Aedan, trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just said. He had, in fact, noticed that the witch was not as uncaring as she seemed, particularly when it came to Aedan and also Ayla, oddly enough. She appeared to be surprisingly protective of the two of them, as much as she might pretend otherwise. And he owed her a debt he could never repay now that she had saved Ayla; he didn't doubt that Ayla would never have made it without Morrigan's magic and ability with potions. None of that really served to make him like her any more, since she seemed to be so determined to hate _him_ , but he saw Aedan's point. "Oh, very well, perhaps she's not as much of a bitch as she seems to be. I still doubt we'll get along any time soon. But if that's truly the way you feel about her – I won't say anything against it. Have you told her how you feel?"

Aedan snorted, keeping his voice low as he replied, "Are you insane? She thinks love is a weakness; if I told her, I'd never get near her again. No, I'll keep that to myself for now, and just let her think I'm only interested in bedding her. Maybe she'll come around eventually." He shook his head. "We chose a difficult pair of women, Alistair."

"Yes, I suppose we did," Alistair said softly, looking over at Ayla's still form. "I'm not sure if I should tell her how I feel or not. I have no idea how she feels about me, other than – well, you know." He blushed furiously as Aedan grinned. "But just when I think I might be getting her to care for me, she'll get angry with me for no reason. Then she'll let me hold her until she falls asleep. I don't get her at all."

"Angry with you?" Aedan blinked, looking confused, until his face suddenly cleared. "Oh, are you talking about with the werewolves, when we first entered the forest?"

"Yes!" Alistair exclaimed, frustrated at the memory. "She was so angry with me and I have no idea why!"

Aedan laughed, shaking his head. "You really don't know why? It's because she was worried about you. She and Morrigan are just alike that way; Morrigan yelled at me for being a fool after I was caught by that tree. They were both worried and afraid and they didn't like it, so they took it out on us, since it was technically our fault."

"She was worried about me?" Alistair repeated, warmed at the thought. "Are you sure about that?"

Aedan nodded. "Absolutely. I think she cares about you more than she's willing to admit, or maybe more than she wants to. I think you just need to give her some time."

"So, do you think I should tell her how I feel, or wait until she's willing to admit how she feels?" Alistair asked curiously. Aedan had been right about everything so far; surely if he thought Ayla cared about him, he must be right, but he didn't want to scare her away.

"I'm not sure," Aedan answered slowly. "I don't think her feelings about love are the same as Morrigan's, but I don't know if she'd be ready to accept it, either. You'll have to decide on that yourself."

"Great," Alistair muttered. "Just what I'm not good at."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Just do it when it feels right to you," Aedan replied. "If you're not going to go sleep, at least go sit with her and let me take watch, will you?"

Alistair nodded. "All right." He turned and headed over to where Ayla was laying, sitting down next to her. She was, unfortunately, still unconscious, but her breathing was steady, and he hoped she would wake up soon. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop worrying about her until she did.

He spent the next little while alternating between looking back and forth between her and where Aedan was keeping watch, continually patrolling the area between their campsite and the only way out to the rest of the forest. He didn't know how long it had been when he looked down at Ayla and realized her eyelids were fluttering and she was stirring, her head moving back and forth.

He reached out and took her hand in his. He'd taken his gauntlets off, so he was able to feel the warmth and smoothness of her skin in his own hand. He watched with baited breath now; after another moment, her eyes opened, looking dazed and unfocused. He had never seen a more beautiful sight in all his life as that of her eyes opening, he decided. He had known that she was alive, but he realized now as relief flooded him that a part of him had been afraid she would never open her eyes again. She blinked a few times, until her eyes suddenly focused on him, and she smiled.

"Alistair? What happened?" She winced a little as she got into a full sitting position.

Without thinking, he pulled her abruptly into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her. He was so desperate just to feel her there again, to feel the warmth and peace it brought him to have her there. "Ouch!" she protested, pushing lightly against him. "Not so tight!"

"Maker, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, releasing her immediately, though he supported her with an arm around her shoulders still. He couldn't believe he'd already forgotten just how she'd been hurt and had done more damage to her.

"It's all right," she reassured him. "It's just that your armor is never comfortable at the best of times, and, well, I'm feeling a little bruised. What happened? Are you all right?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Am _I_ all right?" he repeated incredulously, torn between exasperation and the giddy feeling that wanted to overtake him at the thought that she was worried for him. "You should be worried about yourself!"

"Well, I know how I am," she pointed out. "Which is alive, if a little hurt. But I don't know how you are."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm fine. I was just worried about you. You got caught by one of those walking trees Zathrian brought to life, like Aedan did before, and it almost . . ." His voice cracked as he found he couldn't quite finish the sentence.

"Killed me?" She finished softly, and he nodded mutely, remembering anew the terror and grief he'd felt in that moment. "I remember now. It squeezed me, and I couldn't get loose. I must have blacked out, I suppose."

"I – I'm so sorry, Ayla," he whispered, feeling shame wash over him. "I saw it happen, but I was too far away – I couldn't get to you in time. Morrigan and Zevran saved you, and I – I didn't go to you right away. I helped Aedan finish off Zathrian instead." He hung his head, unable to meet her eyes.

"Hey." Ayla reached for him, lifting up his chin so he had no choice but to look in her in the eye. "Don't apologize, Alistair. You did the right thing. No matter what happens in a battle, you should never stop fighting until the enemy before you is down. I learned that the hard way; I went to my brother once when he fell, and nearly got myself killed in the process. The only reason I'm still alive is because my father was there at the time, and he saved both our lives – and scolded me at length afterward. You did exactly what you should have – exactly what I would have wanted you to do. So don't you dare feel bad over it, you understand?"

She looked so sincere – and even slightly fierce as she stared him down – that he couldn't help but nod, incredibly relieved that she thought he'd done the right thing. "I – I've never been so terrified in my entire life as when I heard you scream," he confessed, not knowing if he should be telling her this yet, but unable to stop himself. "I . . . thought you were . . . I thought I'd never see you again."

She let go of his chin, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them. Now she was the one who couldn't quite seem to look him in the eye. "I'm all right, Alistair. I'm still here. I'm . . . sorry that I worried you." Her voice was so quiet at the end, he barely caught what she was saying.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, surprised that he hadn't yet scared her off. "As long as you're fine, that's all that matters. How do you feel?"

She looked back up at him, smiling wryly. "A bit like I fell off a cliff – as in, bruised all over – but other than that, I feel pretty good. Morrigan did a good job." She tilted her head, studying him. "Did you kill Zathrian?"

"No," he replied, his hand tightening on hers. "I wanted to, but Aedan wouldn't let me. And he was right; we needed him to break the curse, which he did. He ended up dying when he broke the curse, and the Lady of the Forest is gone too, but all the werewolves are back to normal now. Once we get back to the camp, I'm sure all the elves will be fine as well."

"He actually agreed to break the curse?" A dazzling smile broke across her face, and he felt his heart skip a beat in response. "I'm so glad; I really hoped we'd be able to convince him. I didn't want them to have to stay like that."

"Well, they're all okay now," he assured her. "They were grateful to us – and to you – for wanting to help them. I . . . should let you get some sleep now," he finished reluctantly. The last thing he wanted was to leave her, but – "You need to get your strength back."

He'd started to let go of her hands as he began to get up, but she tightened her grip on them and pulled him back down. "Wait, why don't you . . . stay with me?"

"What?" he asked, not sure that he'd heard her correctly.

Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she repeated, "Stay with me. I . . . it was nice when you held me the other night . . . and when we slept in your tent the time before that. Didn't you think so? I mean, if you don't want to, of course you don't have to . . ."

"Ayla, of course I want to." In fact, his heart was doing a little dance inside him that she'd even asked. He knew he'd sleep infinitely better if she was in his arms. "But are you sure? You're all bruised, and like you said, my armor isn't all that comfortable for you." He didn't want to take his armor off to sleep, not while they were still in the forest. It was too dangerous.

Her cheeks were turning a brighter pink by the second as she said, "I'm sure. As long as you don't hold me quite so tightly, it'll be fine."

He grinned. "Okay, it's settled. I'll just go get my blanket and be right back."

She nodded, letting go of his hands as he got to his feet, and went to where he'd left his pack and blanket earlier. He grabbed the blanket and hurried back to her side, spreading it over himself as he lay on his back next to her. He drew her close to him carefully with one arm around her waist, and she curled on her side next to him, laying one arm across his chest and covering herself with her blanket as well. He kept his arm secured gently around her waist, loving the feel of her there; as always, it just felt so right.

"How's that?" he asked her quietly. "Not too tight?"

"No," she shook her head as she snuggled a little closer. "It . . . feels just right."

"I'm so glad you're all right." He brushed some of her hair away from her face with his other hand, gently tucking it behind her ear. "I don't know what I would've done if you . . ."

"Shh." She laid her finger over his lips, halting his flow of words as he could suddenly only focus on her touch. "Don't think about it. I'm tougher than I look; I will not die quite so easily."

"Ayla . . ." he took her hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers. Didn't she realize how close she had been to dying? "You were . . . if Morrigan and Zevran hadn't been there . . ."

"But they were," she interrupted him, pulling her hand away from his. "You'll make yourself crazy if you think about it too much. We have lots to do still; think about that instead."

"All right," he said slowly as she settled herself down next to him again. "I'll try to think about something else."

What he found himself thinking about instead, as his eyes grew heavier and she fell asleep curled into his side, was that he'd finally decided he didn't want to wait any longer. He loved her; he wanted her to be his first, before it was too late. He would wait only until they got to Denerim; he wanted their first time together to be in a real bed, not on the forest floor or in some tent. He wanted to be able to lie together with her for as long as they wanted to afterward, with no armor between them. With that in mind, he finally drifted off to sleep.

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They were now only one day away from returning to their base camp in the forest where the others were waiting. They had made it back to the Dalish camp without incident, where they had discovered that the curse had indeed been lifted from the elves. After finding out Zathrian's fate, which Aedan had sugar-coated to make him out to be a hero who had died to lift the curse, not the person who'd caused it all in the first place, Lanaya had taken over Zathrian's duties as Keeper of the clan, and had pledged the elves' aid to the blight in his place. She had also completely healed Ayla's remaining injuries.

Ayla had been very grateful for that; though she had refused to admit it to Alistair or anyone else, she had been hurting fairly badly. Though Morrigan had succeeded in healing any broken bones she might have had from her close call, the bruising that had been left was deep enough and painful enough to hinder her movement and abilities. As such, she'd agreed to Alistair's demands not to fight on the way back, only because she suspected she'd be more of a hindrance than a help, being unable to move at her usual speed or execute her moves the same.

She had, however, flatly refused to allow him to carry her when he'd brought it up, threatening to shift and run away if he did. He didn't know it had been an empty threat; in her condition, she doubted she ever would have been able to manage the change. But he'd believed her and given up on the issue, and fortunately, things had been fairly quiet on the way back to the Dalish. Her lack of fighting had not been much of a problem.

She was now back in top fighting form since Lanaya had healed her; any traces of lingering pain were completely gone. She'd thrown herself wholeheartedly into the few fights they'd run across since leaving the Dalish, since there were no longer any werewolves or anything to hold her back. It had felt great, being able to use her skills to their fullest again. And to his credit, Alistair had left well enough alone once Lanaya had pronounced her healed; he hadn't tried to hold her back or protect her, which she had been afraid he might.

Now, more than ever, she wasn't sure what to do with him. As much as she wanted to pretend she'd asked him to stay with her that night for his comfort only, she knew that wasn't true. It wasn't like she'd never had a brush with death before; in fact, she'd had several near misses and it had never bothered her much. But for whatever reason, this time, when she had awakened and Alistair had been there, so very worried about her, she'd felt in need of the comfort it seemed only he could give her.

The fact that she was now relying on him for comfort meant she was in far more danger with him than she'd ever suspected. The thought of how much she was coming to rely on him was terrifying for her; she didn't want to experience the terror he obviously had when she'd nearly died, or worse yet, the grief and pain. Part of her wanted to run far away from him and the way he made her feel.

But then, he would do something that would wipe any thoughts of running away right out of her head. That next morning, when she'd awakened in his arms again, no one else had been awake just yet, except for Zevran who'd been on watch with his back to them. He'd kissed her so thoroughly and passionately that the fire he'd ignited in her had chased away any regret she'd felt for asking him to stay with her or any thoughts of running. He'd only stopped kissing her when Zevran had seen and whistled.

Though he hadn't said anything, there had been a promise in his eyes when he'd pulled away that made her think she might be making progress on convincing him to lay with her. And if that was true, there was no way she was going to back away from him now. She wanted him too much for that; particularly since he had taken it into his head to kiss her senseless every time they had a minute alone since that morning. They hadn't had time to take things any further than that, but his kisses alone were enough to wind her up and leave her wanting; he'd proved himself to be a quick study in that area, and had become quite skilled at it. As soon as she had the opportunity, she was going to find out if he was ready to take things further.

She also wanted to talk to somebody about her feelings for him and what they meant, since she was getting seriously out of her depth with him. She'd come to the conclusion that Leliana would be the best person to ask; Morrigan would be scornful about any discussion about feelings, and it would be too awkward to ask Aedan. Leliana, however, was all about romance and feelings and might know just what it was Ayla needed to do to keep her heart intact. She would just need to find some time to talk with her alone once they reunited with the others.

She returned to the small clearing they'd decided to spend the night at to discover Aedan rooting through his pack. It looked like he might be organizing it, based on the fact that the entire contents of his pack seemed to be ending up spread out around him on the ground. Alistair and Zevran were out hunting for food at the moment, while Morrigan was gathering more herbs for potions, leaving only her and Aedan in the campsite.

"Looking for something in particular?" she asked, crouching down next to him on the ground, scanning the amazingly varied piles stacking up around him.

"Not really," he grunted, tossing a pouch of rough-hewn jewels over his shoulder. "Just trying to figure out how exactly my pack got so heavy, and how I might be able to lighten it."

"Well, it might help if you didn't pick up every shiny thing you saw like you were a bird," she remarked wryly. "Speaking of, what's that?"

He followed her gaze to an amulet sitting on top of a pile of other amulets, belts, and rings. It looked as though it had been broken and painstakingly glued back together. "Oh, that. It's an amulet of Andraste; I saw it in the Arl's study at Redcliffe and took it, along with a few other things." He grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

She shook her head and grinned. "Shame on you, Aedan! A nobleman's son being so light-fingered!"

"I didn't take anything really valuable," he defended himself, though he didn't look ashamed about it at all. "Just a few odds and ends I thought might be useful. I think he owes us, anyway."

"Did you say this is an amulet of that Andraste person?" she asked slowly, dangling the chain from her fingers.

"Yes, that's her in relief on the front of it," he answered, rooting through his bag again. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just –" she spun the amulet around, trying to remember what sounded so familiar about it. "Wait, I remember now! Alistair mentioned something about an amulet of Andraste that was his mother's. He'd gotten angry at the Arl and broken it . . ." she trailed off.

Aedan had turned his head and was staring at her and the amulet. "That one looks like it was broken. Do you think that's the one he was talking about?"

She frowned, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "It might be. Alistair seemed to think it was lost, but maybe the Arl found it . . ."

"And put it back together for him," Aedan finished. "It was in his study on his desk, after all. Why don't you give it to Alistair, see if it is his?"

"What?" She blinked at him, wondering what he was getting at with that oh-so-innocent look on his face. "Why me? You're the one who found it."

"Well, yes, but you're the one he told about his mother's amulet and the one who realized it might be his," Aedan pointed out. "It would mean more coming from you."

"I suppose . . ." It did make a certain kind of sense for her to be the one to ask him. And he had seemed so sad about losing the amulet when he'd talked about it; she knew how important it could be to have something left of the people you loved. "All right, I will." She tucked the amulet in her pouch and stood up. "I'll go get a fire started while you keep making a mess there."

He snorted, casting her a wry look. "I am not making a mess, I am organizing my pack. There is a difference, you know."

"Oh? It doesn't look like there is to me," she responded airily, winking at him before moving over to the center of the site, where she began to make a ring of stones for the fire. He laughed and shook his head before turning back to his pack.

It was later, after the others had returned and they had all finished their supper, that she pulled Alistair off into the forest a little ways, explaining that she wanted to talk to him in private before they all retired for the night and he went on first watch. "I . . . have something I wanted to show you," she told him.

"Oh?" He looked puzzled, even as a slow smile spread across his face. "Shouldn't we wait until we have a little more free time then?"

She laughed. "Why, did you think it was something dirty I was going to show you?"

He blushed. "Well, I don't know . . . you mean it isn't?"

She shook her head, still grinning. "No, actually, though that can be arranged some other time. It was this that I wanted to show you." She pulled the amulet out of her pouch, holding it up for him to see.

He took it from her, studying it for a few moments, his brow furrowed in confusion before his eyebrows suddenly shot up. "This - this is my mother's amulet. It has to be. But why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"

He was looking at her with such wonder and joy that she felt her heart skip a beat, even as she felt that unusual warmth in her chest he seemed to invoke in her. She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable being the focus of his attention. "I didn't find it, actually. Aedan did, in the Arl's study at Redcliffe castle. I noticed it when he was going through his things earlier today, and thought that it might be the one you were talking about."

"Oh, the Arl's study. Then he must have found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don't understand, why would he do that?" He looked from the amulet back to her, confusion written across his face.

"He must have meant to give it back to you," Ayla replied. "It looks as though it would have taken him some time to put it back together; he wouldn't have done that for no reason."

"Maybe he did," Alistair said slowly, studying the amulet again before pulling it over his head. "He might even have brought it with him one of those times he came to see me at the monastery. Not that I would have given him a chance, as belligerent as I was to him. Thank you," he looked back up at her, his eyes shining. "I mean it. I . . . thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity. I'll need to talk to him about this. If he recovers from his . . . when he recovers, that is. I wish I'd had this a long time ago."

He took a step forward and pulled her into a hug. "It was nothing, really," she mumbled, embarrassed, trying to ignore how much she enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her as she hugged him back.

"Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow. I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things." He tightened his arms around her for a moment before stepping back, beaming down at her.

She frowned. "Why wouldn't I remember you mentioning it? It was obviously important to you, so that makes it worth remembering, doesn't it?"

He stared at her, his smile growing wider. "Just like that? It was important to me, so it was worth remembering?"

She stared back at him, puzzled. Why was this so surprising for him? Did he really think so little of himself that he had expected her not to be listening to him? "Of course. Anything that's important to you is important to me. That's just how it is."

This time, when he pulled her into his arms, he kissed her fiercely. She was happy to respond in kind as heat flooded her; she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body into his. Their tongues duelled together as he ravished her mouth, and he only pulled away when they could both no longer breathe, resting his forehead against hers. They stood together like that for a brief moment before he suddenly whispered, "I love you, Ayla."

"What?!" She pulled free of his embrace, stumbling back a few steps, staring at him in utter shock. She'd been so wrapped up with worry about her own feelings for him that she hadn't really stopped to think about how he might feel about her.

"I – I didn't tell you to make you say it back or anything," he explained hastily, taking a step towards her, frowning when she took a step back in panic. "Or – to pressure you or anything. I . . . just wanted you to know. And . . . maybe . . . to find out if you might ever . . . one day . . . feel the same way about me."

She wanted to run; her heart was pounding with panic. Goddess, how she wanted to run! She wanted to tell him she could never feel that way about him, that she only lusted for him, and then run far away from him and his hazel eyes and his strong arms. But looking at the hope on his face, she knew she could never hurt him that way. Knowing that made her realize that if she told him it was all about lust, she'd be lying to him and to herself. But what did that mean? "I – I don't know. I . . . feel something for you I've never felt before, but I don't know . . . what it is." How to explain herself? She was so bad at this sort of thing! "Well – we've never really talked about it, but you know I've been with other men before, right?"

He flinched, but he nodded, obviously wondering what she was getting at as she continued, "When I'm with you, it's . . . different from how it was with any of them. More . . . intense, I guess. Better. But I don't know what exactly that means. I – I need time to figure it out. I'm sorry."

He was smiling as he shook his head. Obviously she'd said something right, anyway. "Don't be sorry. Take all the time you need to figure it out. You've been so patient with me, I owe you." He hesitated, taking a few steps closer to her. "Do you want me to stay away from you completely while you figure it out? Because . . . I was thinking, when we get to Denerim, we could stay at an inn and . . . well . . . if you still wanted to . . ." He trailed off, his face flaming, not quite meeting her eyes anymore.

She suddenly had a completely inappropriate urge to laugh. If that wasn't just like him! He could so easily say he loved her, which to her was the most terrifying thing a person could say, but he couldn't even properly say he wanted to bed her. Part of her did want to tell him to stay away from her completely until she figured this out, but the part of her that lit on fire every time he kissed her could not possibly pass up on this opportunity. "Of course I still want to," she blurted out before she could think better of it. "But – if it's all right with you, could we just pretend you never said anything for now? Just continue on as before?"

He nodded, smiling again. "Of course, whatever you want. I'll take whatever you're willing to give me for now. And if you can give me more one day – then I'll count myself the luckiest man in Ferelden."

Oh, Goddess, why did he have to be so sweet? Why did he have to say things like that? She shook her head. "I think you'd be a lot luckier with someone other than me. I don't – I'm not as great as you think." If he knew the extent of just what she and her brother had done to those bandits, what would he think? Would he still love her then?

"Ayla, how could you think that?" He frowned as he reached for her, but she took a step back again.

"I just – can we talk later? I need to go clear my head, go out in the forest for a while." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Seeing the worry in his eyes, she added, "I promise you I will come back. I just need some time to myself."

"All right," he said slowly, though the worried look didn't clear from his face. "Be careful, please."

She nodded. "I will." She turned and headed deeper into the forest. She would shift and run until she'd tired herself out, she decided, until she could maybe sort out this jumble of feelings inside her. And she most definitely needed to talk to Leliana, now more than ever. She could only hope that the bard could help her figure out what she needed to do.


	22. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrified and confused after Alistair's confession, Ayla asks Leliana for advice. The party reaches Denerim; Ayla and Aedan go with Alistair to finally meet his sister, a meeting that does not go well.

Chapter 22: Family

They had reached the base camp the very next night, and after a supper and reunion in which they'd relayed everything that had happened in the forest to those that had been left behind, Ayla had pulled Leliana aside to have the talk she so badly needed.

Much to her surprise, things between her and Alistair had not been awkward today. Just as she'd asked, he hadn't made one mention of his confession, and instead had joked and flirted with her as normal. He'd even kissed her once today when he'd found the opportunity. What was more surprising and disturbing was the fact that she had so easily fallen back into their usual pattern with him; she hadn't felt once like she wanted to push him away or run from him.

With all that in mind, she knew she needed to sort things out as soon as possible, so she dragged Leliana off a distance away from the others, allowing them to settle for the night and do as they wished, though she did not leave the clearing altogether.

"What did you wish to talk about?" Leliana asked brightly as she sat down cross-legged on the grass. "Hair? Shoes? Music?"

"Uh . . . no," Ayla replied, frowning at the bard as she sat down herself. Much as she liked to talk about music, she'd never understood Leliana's fascination for hair, shoes, and clothing. Maybe it had something to do with living in that Orlais country, or wherever it was she was from. "Actually, I wanted to ask your advice about a . . . problem I'm having."

"Oh, of course!" Leliana nodded. "I would be happy to offer you whatever advice I can." She looked at Ayla expectantly.

How exactly to put this? Ayla wondered. She wasn't entirely sure she understood what exactly the problem was herself; how was she to make Leliana understand? "Well . . . it has to do with Alistair," she began, looking down at her hands. "He . . . while we were gone, he told me that he loves me." That was probably the most immediate and pressing problem.

"Why, that is wonderful news!" Leliana squealed. She frowned as she studied Ayla's face more closely. "I am afraid I do not understand what the problem is . . . but you do not seem pleased."

"No . . . I mean . . . well, maybe I am, I'm not sure." Ayla heaved a sigh. "The problem is, I do not know how I feel about him. I do not know if I love him, and I do not know if I _want_ to love him. I desire him, certainly, but . . . that was all I really planned on. I didn't really . . . want anything more."

Leliana's frown deepened. "I definitely do not understand. Why would you not want to love him? Alistair is a very good man. Is there someone else from your own country that you care for? Or . . . is it because you intend to return to your own country when this is all over and do not want complications?"

"No, it is not any of that," Ayla shook her head, frustrated. This was more difficult to explain than she'd feared it would be. "I do not plan to go back to Fallor if I can help it, and there is not any man at home that I care for in that way, either. And it is not that there is anything wrong with Alistair. It is just that . . . I never wanted to love _anyone_. I . . . well, I'm . . . afraid to, I suppose." Yes, that was her. Brave in battle, a downright coward when it came to emotions.

"Oh." Leliana's face cleared, sympathy and understanding coloring her features now. "I see. Did you have your heart broken before? Because I do not believe Alistair would ever treat you badly."

Ayla looked at the bard, feeling semi-exasperated. Why was it so difficult for her to understand the reason why someone would be afraid to love? "No, I have never been in love before. That is why I am not certain how I feel about him. And I know he would never deliberately hurt me." Any doubts she might have had about that had been banished the moment he'd accepted her shapeshifting abilities so wholeheartedly. "But . . . that does not mean that he would not die on me."

"Ah." Leliana smiled gently. "Now we get to the heart of the problem. You are afraid to love him and lose him."

"Yes," Ayla sighed, ashamed as she looked down, not wanting to meet Leliana's gaze. "So, tell me, how can I keep myself from falling in love with him? How can I keep my heart intact?"

"Oh, Ayla." Leliana sounded so disappointed, she couldn't help but look back up at her. The bard's face was troubled. "Is that really what you want? If you are already concerned that you are losing your heart to him, I do not believe there is any way to stop that, short of leaving him altogether, and even that might not work. Do you want to leave him – to leave us?"

Ayla shook her head, slowly. As often as part of her felt she had wanted to run, she had never truly considered it as an option. She wanted to see this Blight, this journey, through. She could not leave them now, not when they needed help so much. And to never see Alistair again? To never again feel the fire his touch brought out in her, the desire he could make her feel with nothing more than a glance, and the comfort she'd discovered he could bring to her? She didn't know if she could handle that, didn't even want to truly consider it. "I don't . . . but . . . if I let myself love him, and then something happened to him . . . I do not know if I could handle it. In fact, I'm fairly certain I could not handle losing someone I love, not ever again. Could I not just . . . pull away from him, maybe?"

"Hmmm." Leliana's expression was suddenly unreadable. "Could you pull away from him? Tell him you do not want him anymore, break his heart, but continue to travel with him, see him every day, and not be with him?"

"Ah . . ." Ayla looked away again. Break his heart . . . she'd already had the chance to do that, and hadn't been able to bring herself to hurt him like that. And wouldn't that bring about the same problem of still wanting him, but not being able to have him, with the added torture of seeing him all the time?

"Allow me to put this a different way," Leliana continued, overriding her silence. "Let us say you did pull away, in order to protect your heart. Are you saying that if you pulled away from Alistair, and he died in battle tomorrow, you would not care? It would not hurt you? You would brush it off as though it did not matter?"

Ayla stared at Leliana in shock, feeling as though she'd been struck. If Alistair died in battle tomorrow . . . the very thought made her ill. She couldn't even begin to process it, didn't even want to imagine it. "I . . . I . . ." she stammered. Would she truly be able to brush it off? Would it truly not hurt her? She had witnessed the deaths of two men she'd been with before in battle, ones that she had only briefly been with. Though she was certain she had not loved them, it had of course still hurt to lose them, but she had been able to get over it eventually. But Alistair . . . even if she pulled away from him now . . . she suspected her reaction would be far more shattering than anything she'd previously experienced.

"I know you are afraid of what could happen," Leliana said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. "But if you pulled away, and something did happen to him, I think you would regret it. I believe you are already in too deep for it not to hurt when you lose him – so you should spend every moment you can with him, and try not to worry about what might happen if you lost him. Would you rather experience the pain of losing him – or the pain of losing him and the regret of not having been with him when you had the chance?"

Ayla stared at her, trying to wrap her mind around it, trying to equate it to something she knew. Had she wished she'd never loved her father, so that losing him wouldn't have hurt her the way that it had? No, of course not. She'd only regretted that she hadn't spent more time with him before she'd lost him – and, of course, that she hadn't gone with him that day. "I . . . think . . . I'd rather . . . not pull away from him," she murmured at last. "But . . . I still . . . I don't know that it will be so easy to get away from this fear."

"Of course it will not," Leliana replied gently. "The only advice I can offer you is to try not to think about it. Just let things between you happen naturally. Try not to force things one way or the other. I can assure you that at least with Alistair you will not suffer the ultimate heartbreak." A shadow passed across the bard's face at her last words.

"What could be more heartbreaking than losing someone you love?" Ayla asked, confused at Leliana's words.

"Having the one you love, that you thought loved you, betray you and try to have you killed," Leliana retorted with sudden bitterness. "I can tell you from experience that I would rather Marjolaine had died than to have her betray me."

_Marjolaine? Oh_ . . . Leliana must be one of those women who enjoyed both the company of women and men, Ayla realized, judging by the way she'd eyed up Aedan until it had been clear his interest lay with Morrigan. Not that it bothered her; relationships between those of the same gender were not frowned upon in Fallor, and she'd had offers from women before, though she'd turned them down, being only interested in men herself. "How did this Marjolaine betray you?" she asked, curious as to what could have made the normally gentle Leliana so bitter.

Leliana hesitated, looking at her for a long moment before saying, "Bards in Orlais are not always simple minstrels. They are . . . sometimes spies, who gather information at the bidding of a patron. Usually it is nobles spying on other nobles. I was one such bard, and Marjolaine was my mentor and my friend. She taught me the bardic arts, how to enchant with words or songs, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant. I used to serve her, my bard master, because I loved her, and because I enjoyed what I did."

After a long moment of studying her hands, Leliana went on, "I thought I knew her. My devotion to her blinded me to her faults. At her request, I hunted down a man who had some documents, killed him and took the documents. I ended up opening them, though I was not supposed to, and discovered Marjolaine had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries. It was treason."

Ayla frowned, puzzled as to what the problem was. "Didn't you say that is what bards do? Why is that a betrayal?"

Leliana shook her head. "It was not that; my concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught. I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She brushed aside my concerns; she admitted her guilt, but said it was in the past. That was why the documents had to be destroyed, she said. I believed her; I kept believing her up until the moment they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make me look the traitor." She finished the last in a whisper, her eyes reflecting her pain at the long ago betrayal.

"Oh," Ayla murmured, understanding at last. "I'm so sorry, Leliana." Leliana was right; whatever else might happen, Ayla could never imagine Alistair betraying her, or endangering her like that. It would indeed be terrible to have the one you loved betray you in such a way; she could understand why Leliana would rather have lost this Marjolaine of hers. She looked up at Leliana, asking, "What happened after that, if you do not mind telling me? How did you end up here?"

Leliana swallowed, looking away for a moment before saying, "The Orlesian guards captured me after that, did terrible things to me to make me confess. It was a traitor's punishment I endured, and all that awaited at the end of it was eternity in an unmarked grave. The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity. I did not seek Marjolaine out; if she thought I was coming for her, she would have me caught again. I was tempted to confront her; I was furious, betrayed. But what could I do? And so I fled to Ferelden, to the Chantry and the Maker." Looking at Ayla again, she said at last, "So perhaps you see what I mean, then."

Ayla nodded, slowly, feeling sympathy for the bard who had become her friend. She could certainly see what she had meant by the ultimate heartbreak. "Thank you for telling me – and thank you for the advice. I think – I think you've helped me figure out what is the right thing to do, instead of the cowardly thing to do. I owe you much; if you ever need anything, you have only to ask me."

Leliana smiled sadly, squeezing her hand. "Thank you. It feels good to get all that off my chest. But you do not owe me anything; we are friends, no? I was happy to help a friend."

Ayla shrugged and smiled, returning the pressure of Leliana's hand before releasing it. "If we are friends, then I will be happy to help you if you need it. Just let me know."

"You are stubborn," Leliana remarked, shaking her head before a more genuine smile broke across her face. "Very well, if you insist, the next time I need help I will come to you." She paused suddenly, staring at something past Ayla's shoulder. She was facing towards the rest of the camp, while Ayla had her back to it. "Oh, my, now that is a sight to see," the bard said, raising her eyebrows.

"What?" Ayla turned to look, and saw Alistair, who had obviously just come back from washing up, standing in front of his tent with no tunic on as he rooted through his pack, water dripping down his bare chest in the light of the fire. She felt her mouth go dry as lust zipped through her veins, making her ache with longing. "I swear, he is _trying_ to drive me to distraction," she grumbled.

"Is he succeeding?" Leliana asked from behind her, obviously amused.

Ayla had the sudden suspicion that he really was doing this on purpose, which was confirmed when Alistair looked up suddenly and caught her watching him. A slow smile spread across his face as a look of mischief flashed in his eyes. She was suddenly amused at his boldness. "Yes, he is, but two can play at that game." She turned back to the bard and winked. "Please excuse me, Leliana, I have some business to attend to."

Leliana grinned widely, waving her hand. "Of course, feel free."

Ayla turned back and stood up, walking over to Alistair, who was watching her approach as he scrubbed himself dry with the towel he'd produced from his pack, before he tossed it aside as she reached him. His smile widened when she stopped in front of him. "Something you need, my lady?"

"Hmm, yes, I think there is," she answered, placing her palms flat on his chest before trailing them down to his abdomen. If he wanted to play with fire, she was going to make him burn.

"Um, Ayla, what are you doing?" he asked breathlessly as she carefully traced every ridge on his impressive torso, running her hands over every inch of exposed skin. "We are in the middle of camp, anyone could see –" he gasped as she suddenly slipped her hands beneath the waist of his leggings.

His eyes widened as he grabbed her wrists, forcibly pulling her hands out and keeping them at her sides. "We can't do that here!" he exclaimed in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Ayla could hear the faint sound of Leliana chuckling, although she didn't think anybody else was watching.

She smiled as she tried to tug her hands away from him and he refused to let go. She found it rather arousing when he used his superior strength against her like this. "Maybe you should not wander half-naked around camp, trying to tempt me on purpose, then."

"I was not –" he began, but when she raised her eyebrows at him, he conceded, "Okay, maybe I was." He gave her a suddenly hopeful look. "Did it work?"

She laughed. "Maybe a little, so I thought I should return the favour." Though she couldn't move her arms, she had enough leverage to press her hips into his, causing him to groan, though it would have been more effective had she not still been in her armor. She leaned up to whisper by his ear, "You know, I still need to wash up. Care to join me?"

"I . . . I would love to," he murmured huskily, face flushing, "but I'm afraid I have first watch again. We wouldn't have much time."

"I suppose it will have to be some other night, then," Ayla sighed. She looked up at him, smiling. "Are you going to let go of my hands?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, amusement sparkling in his own eyes. "Will you behave if I do?"

She shrugged, her smile widening, surprised at how much she was enjoying herself. "I cannot make any promises."

"Well, I'll have to take my chances then." He let go of her wrists, backing away from her, eyeing her warily, causing her to laugh.

"Relax, Alistair, I'm not going to ravish you here," she teased him. "You wanted to wait until we got to Denerim for that, right?"

His face flushed as he nodded. "Right, Denerim. It will be a couple of weeks until we get there – if that's all right?" He looked at her with sudden uncertainty.

"I told you, I would wait as long as you needed," she replied seriously. "Besides, there are other ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime." She winked at him, watching as his eyes flared with sudden heat. "But for now, I'll go wash up and let you do your watch. Good night, Alistair."

"Good night," he replied in a low voice as she walked away.

It had been a good idea to go to Leliana for advice, she thought as she gathered up her pack and headed to the river. The bard was right; she was in too deep with Alistair now to not experience pain if she lost him. So, there was no point in holding herself back anymore or trying to run away. She would let things happen as they would, and try to keep him safe, protect him as he had protected her from the werewolves. If something went drastically wrong and it looked like neither of them would make it out, she could always make sure she died first. That way, she wouldn't have to worry about any pain or grief. Yes, she decided, that would be the best way to go.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to Alistair's prediction, it was two weeks later when they finally reached the outskirts of Denerim. It had been a surprisingly enjoyable two weeks, but then, Ayla felt at home travelling on the road. As a child she'd spent as much time on the road with her father and brother as she had at the home of the Trichlor clan. Things had been relatively quiet on the road, also; they'd only run into a few roving bands of darkspawn and one group of bandits.

Due to the lack of battles, she and Alistair had been able to spend a lot more time together than they had been able to previously. She had found herself enjoying not just their intimate moments alone but the time they spent just talking and being with each other. She couldn't say for sure if she was in love with him, but she knew it was far more of a possibility with him than it had ever been before.

She also had to admire his restraint; more than once over the last two weeks they'd both been pushed to the brink of their desire during their intimate times alone. But he'd always managed to pull back before things went all the way, insisting he wanted to wait until they had a real bed. She was sure that it probably helped that he had no real knowledge of exactly what it would be like when they were truly together, as she did, but she was still impressed by his discipline. She had to admit she was a little relieved they'd finally made it to Denerim; her self-control only went so far.

She glanced over at Alistair as they all waited outside the walls of Denerim for Leliana to come back. She'd gone to purchase hooded cloaks for them all to wear, so that hopefully no one would recognize Alistair or Aedan. Denerim, Aedan had explained, was the capital of Ferelden, and therefore was where both the castle and Loghain were located, meaning there would likely be soldiers on the lookout for Wardens. He'd decided it would be best for them to keep a low profile. Unlike the others, who all had varying levels of impatience and boredom on their faces, Alistair looked sad as he studied the stone walls, while rain slowly drizzled down around them from the slate grey skies above.

She edged over to him. "Something the matter, Alistair?" she asked quietly.

He glanced down at her, looking startled as though he hadn't heard her coming, before he slowly nodded. "It's just . . . the last time I was in Denerim, it was with the other Wardens. This was where the Warden headquarters were for Ferelden."

"Oh." She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry." What could she say to make him feel better for losing all of his former companions in one fell swoop?

"We won't be able to get into headquarters, either," Aedan murmured, obviously having heard them as he approached. "Doubtless Loghain has his soldiers all over the building, waiting for us to try to sneak back in there."

"Yes, I suppose he does," Alistair replied heavily.

Ayla frowned. Goddess, but she hated seeing him like this. "Well, we cannot do anything about it this time, but one day we can reclaim your Warden headquarters and make Loghain pay," she told him, squeezing his arm. "Anyway, you wanted to visit your sister, right? And we have that scholar to find, too. Let us focus on that."

He smiled down at her, though the sadness lingered in his eyes as he squeezed her hand in turn. "You're right, we have other things to worry about right now."

"Such as where in the Maker's name is Leliana," Aedan grumbled. "She has been gone for hours."

Striker gave a sudden bark from Aedan's side, causing them to all turn and look. Leliana was coming down the path from the gates of Denerim, shouldering a large sack full of what were obviously their cloaks. "Finally, there you are!" Aedan exclaimed as she approached, taking the bag from her.

"It took some time to find someone who had that many cloaks made and ready for sale," Leliana defended as she took a cloak for herself. "Besides, I was gathering information. It seems you two are officially wanted for arrest, but most of the townsfolk have no idea what you look like. The city guard has been informed, but it seems unlikely they will do anything about it; most of the ones I saw appeared inexperienced, and would likely be terrified to face an actual Warden in combat. We should only need to be concerned if we run across Loghain's personal soldiers, most of whom do not linger about the marketplace much by the sounds of it."

"No, they would not," Aedan agreed, as he tossed cloaks from the bag to all of the others, except for Ayla, who still had her cloak from home to wear; she'd already fastened it around her shoulders and flipped the hood up. "The marketplace is mostly frequented by commoners, and the city guard, as you said. It is fortunate that it is raining, today. No one should be too suspicious of the hoods."

"I do not understand why we cower instead of confronting your enemy directly," Sten remarked, disapproval lining his face as he held his cloak gingerly in one massive hand.

"Because we are incredibly outnumbered and at a disadvantage here and we do not want to die before we even get to fight the darkspawn," Aedan retorted, staring the qunari down. That was going to come to blows one day soon, Ayla knew, but for the moment, Sten merely scowled and nodded, putting his cloak on.

"Well, now, may we enter the city at long last?" Zevran asked dramatically. "I, for one, would like the pleasure of a drink and a real bed this night, especially if the rain picks up."

"Yes, let's get going," Aedan nodded, turning towards the gates. "There are several things I'd like to accomplish before it gets dark, and I do not want to be in Denerim for longer than one night if we can help it."

Hooded and cloaked, they all followed Aedan through the gate that Leliana had just come out of, which was the one closest to the marketplace. Though there were guards at the gate, there were also a steady stream of people coming and going, and the guards gave their party no more than a cursory glance, as though they could care less. They did not seem to be the most alert sort, Ayla noted.

It wasn't far from the gate to the marketplace itself, which was full of noise and milling crowds of people. The center of the marketplace was home to dozens of booths made of wood with cloth coverings, under which various wares were displayed and the sellers called out loudly to passersby. The market was also ringed with various buildings, some of wood, others of stone, with signs hanging over the doors indicating what lay within. The streets were nothing but dusty ground, rapidly becoming muddy, and the whole place was noisy, dirty, and smelly.

Aedan started off by leading them to a building where there was an armorer that was apparently quite skilled, although eccentric. They first bought as much new armor as they could afford, and he then showed the armorer named Wade the dragonscales they'd acquired from their fight in the Forest. The man was ecstatic, and begged to be allowed to fashion them a set of armor from the scales, promising to finish by the next day.

Once done there, they continued on around the edge of the marketplace, when Alistair suddenly halted. He looked at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, then at a small, dingy wooden building across the way. "That's . . . my sister's house. I'm almost sure of it, this is . . ." he looked at the paper in his hand again, "yes, this is the right address. She could be inside. Could we . . . go and see?" He looked hopefully at Ayla and Aedan, who had both stopped with him.

Aedan raised his eyebrows, then turned to the others, handing a money pouch to Morrigan. "How about the rest of you keep going and get us more supplies? Stock up on herbs and potions and the like? We'll catch up with you later, and go find Brother Genitivi's house from there."

Morrigan regarded him dubiously before nodding. "If you are certain you wish to waste time on this errand, we will continue on, then. Do make sure not to take too long." With that, the others walked away, leaving the three of them behind.

Aedan turned to Alistair. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go in on your own? Or just with Ayla, maybe?"

"It's whatever you want to do, Alistair," Ayla added, noticing the look of panic on his face. She was truly hoping this would work out for him, recalling how happy he'd looked in the Fade when he'd thought he'd been with his sister. She wanted, she realized, to help him be happy in whatever way she could - and that feeling still frightened her, though she tried her best to ignore that. "We can wait out here for you, if you'd rather."

Alistair wrung his hands, glancing between the two of them anxiously. "Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don't know what to expect. I'd like you both to be there with me, if you're willing. Or we could . . . leave, I suppose. We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go."

"Alistair," Ayla sighed, "we are already here. We might as well just go in." She couldn't blame him for wanting to run away, but she knew he would regret it if he left without seeing her. He'd talked of visiting her frequently over the last few days as they got closer to Denerim.

Alistair darted a glance at the house behind them. "Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange . . . sister. Siiiiiiister. Hmmm, now I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just . . . go."

Aedan groaned and grabbed Alistair's arm. "Come on, we're going in." He proceeded to drag Alistair inside the little house, and Ayla followed them inside. The inside of the house was even dingier and more ill-kept than the outside, and smelled strongly of lye and linens. A slender, reddish-blonde woman in rough, though well-sewn clothing, with a lined face and pinched expression approached from the back of the house. Just looking at her, Ayla had a feeling this wasn't going to go well.

"Err . . . hello?" Alistair offered tentatively.

The woman stopped a few feet away, eyes sweeping over them. They'd pushed their hoods back when they entered, allowing her a clear view, and she studied each of them carefully, eyes narrowing. "Eh? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better. And don't trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind."

Alistair looked a little taken aback, and looked over at Ayla. She nodded silent encouragement to him, and he replied, "I'm . . . not here to have any wash done. My name's Alistair. I'm . . . well, this may sound sort of strange, but are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose . . . I'm your brother."

Goldanna's eyebrows shot up before suspicion clouded her face. "My what? I am Goldanna, yes . . . how do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?"

"He's telling the truth," Aedan assured her. "Please, just listen to him. Alistair, go on."

Alistair sighed, looking more nervous than ever before he went on, "Look, our mother . . . she worked as a servant in Redcliffe a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She –"

"You!" Goldanna cried, interrupting him completely as recognition crashed over her face. "I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!" Ayla frowned, noticing she sounded more angry than pleased to find out that Alistair was alive.

Alistair frowned, obviously confused now. "They told you I was dead? Who? Who told you that?"

"Them's at the castle!" Goldanna exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her arms. "I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!"

"I'm sorry, I . . . didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm . . . your brother," Alistair replied faintly, looking as though he'd suddenly realized this wasn't going to go the way he'd hoped. Ayla exchanged a worried glance with Aedan.

Goldanna scoffed in reply, her voice laced with venom. "For all the good it does me! You killed Mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I went back they ran me off!"

"Alistair, I don't think this was a good idea," Aedan said in a low voice.

Ayla, having seen the look of shock and horror on Alistair's face after the woman's accusation, was absolutely furious on his behalf. "How dare you blame Alistair for that!" she snapped. "That was not his fault, and anybody with a grain of sense would know that!"

Goldanna scowled at her, planting her hands on her hips. "And who in the Maker's name are you? Some tart, following after his riches, I expect?"

"Tart?!" Ayla squawked indignantly, her temper snapping as she reached for one of her daggers. Aedan grabbed her arm quickly before she could pull one out, hissing, "Low profile, remember?" Ayla glared at him, but didn't press the matter.

She was surprised, however, when Alistair suddenly stepped forward, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him. "Hey! Don't speak to her that way! She's my friend, and she's helping us Grey Wardens in our fight against the darkspawn!"

Goldanna crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Oooohh, I see. A prince and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me? I don't know you, boy." Her eyes went cold as she continued inexorably, "Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you."

Alistair's anger deflated in the wake of Goldanna's contempt, and Ayla's heart ached at the sudden sad look on his face as he stammered, "I . . . I'm sorry. I . . . I don't know what to say."

Aedan looked suddenly angry on Alistair's behalf, too, as he let go of Ayla's arm and cast a scornful glance at Goldanna. "Come on, Alistair, let's go. It looks like all she wants is your money. Obviously she could care less about family."

"Yes, it really seems that way, doesn't it?" Alistair said softly, looking dejected. "I wasn't expecting my sister to be so . . . I'm starting to wonder why I came."

"I don't know why you came, either, or what you expected to find. But it isn't here! Now get out of my house, all of you!" Goldanna shouted, pointing imperiously at the door.

"You," Ayla snapped, turning a venomous glare on her, "need someone to teach you a lesson. You don't deserve to have a brother at all, let alone one like Alistair!"

"Please, Ayla," Alistair begged her, grabbing her arm, "let's just go. It's not worth it."

Oh, how she wanted to destroy this woman for making him look like that, Ayla thought furiously, noticing the crushing sadness in his eyes. "Count yourself bloody lucky he's such a good man, or you'd be missing a limb or two by now," she hissed at Goldanna, who was suddenly looking frightened, though she tried to cover it up with a glare.

"Let's leave. Now," Aedan said in his most commanding tone, pushing both of them towards the door.

Ayla willingly let herself be pushed out the door, and so did Alistair, until all three of them were outside and the door slammed shut behind them. Ayla clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to work through her fury as Alistair stood there, shoulders slumped, and Aedan watched them both warily.

"Well that was . . . not what I expected, to put it lightly," Alistair said at last, his face wavering between grief and anger. "This is the family I've been wondering about my whole life? That _shrew_ is my sister? I can't believe it. I . . . I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I . . . I feel like a complete idiot."

"You do not need her," Ayla snarled, flinging a dagger at the doorjamb just to relieve her feelings. It thudded in up to the hilt. "She doesn't deserve you. Anyway, you have other people that care about you," she finished softly, embarrassed, but wanting, no, _needing_ to do something, anything, to make him feel better.

"Such as?" he asked bleakly, bitterness lacing his tone. "The only one who ever cared about me was Duncan, and he's gone."

"Come on, Alistair," Aedan said quietly. "Are we two orphaned Wardens not brothers now? I thought we were."

Alistair looked up at him in surprise, and Ayla smiled at him gratefully before adding, her face flushed with embarrassment, "I . . . may not know exactly what it is I feel for you, but make no mistake, I _do_ care about you. Not like a sister, though."

Aedan let out a crack of laughter. "Yes, that would be awkward if a brother and sister felt that way about each other."

Ayla was pleased to see Alistair's expression lightening, although he was now blushing. "Um, yes. I . . . thank you, both of you. You're right, I apologize."

"But, Alistair," Aedan went on, his expression suddenly sobering, "although you can rely on us, most people are out only for themselves. You should learn that. You need to look out for yourself more, and not just do what everyone else wants you to do. Even if it's Ayla or I . . . you should listen to yourself first."

"He's right," Ayla added softly, taking Alistair's hand in hers. "You need to be a little more selfish, worry about what you want a little more."

"Yes, maybe I should," Alistair answered, a faraway look in his eyes as he squeezed Ayla's hand before pulling away. "I guess I should have known better. Let's just go, I don't want to talk about this anymore." He turned and headed in the direction Morrigan and the others had gone earlier.

"Do you think he's going to be all right?" Ayla whispered to Aedan as they followed him at a distance.

Aedan nodded. "He'll get over it eventually. I am sorry he doesn't have a better family, though. I cannot imagine my family ever treating me like that." His face darkened and his mouth tightened. "Not that it matters anymore."

Ayla winced. Aedan so rarely spoke of it and always seemed so together that she often forgot just what had happened to his family. "Well . . . at least you know your family all loved you," she offered at last. "It must be painful feeling like no one in your family wants you." She could not imagine how that felt either.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Aedan said thoughtfully, watching Alistair's retreating back and still slumped shoulders. "That makes me feel a little better, though not much. Let's finish what we came here to do."

As she followed them through Denerim, Ayla couldn't help but think of her own brother. She'd tried not to think of Mardin too much and it had been fairly easy with everything else that was going on. But now that the subject of families had come up, she was reminded that she missed him fiercely. They had rarely been apart more than a few days throughout their lives, and now it had been almost two months since she'd last seen him. She didn't want to leave Ferelden, not anymore, but surely there must be some way of getting word back to Mardin that she was all right. She would just have to find a way, once this Blight was over. For now, they had too much to do.


	23. Her Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party visits Brother Genitivi's house; discovering an impostor there pretending to be his assistant, they realize that Genitivi must have come across something important, and after looking through his papers, decide that Haven is their next destination. Later, when the party is relaxing at a bar, Ayla finds herself jealous when a barmaid flirts with Alistair, prompting her to stake her claim. Afterwards, she and Alistair finally spend the night together. *Warning, smut present in this chapter. Please stop reading after the second break if you are not interested.*

Chapter 23: Her Knight

They had caught up with Morrigan and the others at a store called the Wonders of Thedas, which not only had all the herbs and supplies they could possibly need, but a wide variety of other things as well. The walls were lined with books, and there were toys, statues, maps, globes, and an incredible variety of other things spread throughout the large store.

Ayla had wandered around the store, taking in everything there, having never seen anything like it before. Alistair's mood seemed to have improved after they had arrived at the store as well, as he followed her around, pointing things out to her around the store and explaining some of their uses. She hadn't brought up his sister, and neither had he; they were both pretending it had never happened. If he wanted to talk about it, he would bring it up eventually, Ayla reasoned. She still wished she'd left the horrendous woman with a few injuries to pay for what she had done to him, though.

"Hey, we've got everything we need now," Aedan called from the front of the store. "Time to get going."

They came over to join him, as the others all gathered around as well. "All right," Aedan began, "the house where that Brother Genitivi lives is supposed to be just down the street from here, across from the Gnawed Noble Tavern." He paused, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I'd like to go in the tavern and gather some more information about Loghain and the state of Ferelden, but I'd likely be recognized. Anyway –"

"I can go in instead," Leliana offered, interrupting whatever Aedan had been about to say next. "No one will recognize me."

Aedan frowned, looking her over before nodding abruptly. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. The rest of us will go to Brother Genitivi's and see what we can find. Let's go."

Everyone nodded in response, and the group made its way down the street between the wooden buildings. The rain had stopped, fortunately, but the road was still muddy and the sky still an overcast, slate grey. They reached a small, but homely looking wooden house across the street from a large stone building with a sign proclaiming it to be the Gnawed Noble Tavern. Leliana nodded to them before heading for the door and slipping inside. Aedan, meanwhile, turned and knocked on the door of the house across the way.

The door was opened by a young man with short, dark hair dressed in simple wool clothing, not at all the sort Ayla had been expecting. "Yes? What are you doing here?" he asked, suspicion in his voice.

"Are you . . . Brother Genitivi?" Uncertainty clouded Aedan's tone as he looked the young man over, clearly not expecting him either.

"No, I am Waylon, assistant to Brother Genitivi. This is his home." Waylon looked at their large group for a moment longer before waving them inside the house. They entered a long, plain room, mostly bare except for a large wooden table. There was a closed door on the right side of the room, as well as one at the very back of the room.

As they entered, Ayla frowned as a sudden and familiar scent washed over her nostrils; the rotting stench of death. She sniffed carefully to locate the scent as Aedan continued talking to the assistant, vaguely overhearing Aedan asking where the Brother was, followed by something about how the assistant had no idea, and that the search for the Urn might have led him into danger. Her eyes narrowed as she decided the scent was coming from the back room.

"Ayla? What is it?" Alistair's voice was low as he stepped to her side, obviously noticing that she hadn't been paying attention.

"I can smell a dead body," she whispered to him, nodding towards the door at the end of the room. "Back room." Just as she said that, Striker let out a low, rumbling growl, having sniffed his way over to the same door.

"Not to mention, our good friend 'Waylon' here is lying about something," Zevran added from her other side.

Before anyone could reply, Aedan had glanced over at the sound of his dog and noticed where he was. Cutting off his conversation with Waylon, he headed over to the door. "What's in this room?"

"What are you doing?" Waylon demanded abruptly, a note of panic entering his voice as he followed Aedan. "You're not supposed to go in there."

Ayla looked at the others and they all nodded, following silently after the two, readying themselves for a possible fight. "He's a mage, too," Alistair murmured in warning to the group, nodding at Waylon.

"Why not?" Aedan asked calmly, pausing at the door and facing Waylon. He saw them gathering behind the "assistant" but the carefully neutral expression on his face didn't waver. "Are you hiding something back there?"

The man shook his head in denial, attention still on Aedan. "I'm sorry but that room is not for guests. It's full of books and papers, and I'd rather they were not disturbed."

Aedan shrugged. "We won't mess them up. We'll be very careful, I promise, but there might be something back there that will tell us what we need to know."

"I said no," Waylon replied, voice rising in anger, still with an underlying note of panic. "Genitivi was a very private person."

Was? Ayla's eyebrows rose at the odd choice of words, as did Aedan's as his eyes narrowed, dropping any pretence of friendly or courteous behaviour. "You're hiding something. I want to know what it is." He reached for the handle of the door.

"No, don't touch that door!" Waylon shouted, as a burst of lightning suddenly shot from him. Morrigan and Wynne had been ready for it, both of them casting magical shields to block the rest of the party from the onslaught of energy. The rest of them were all drawing their weapons as Striker snarled and lunged for the man, but before anybody else could get there, Sten had lopped the man's head off with one massive swing of his greatsword, blood spraying across the room in an arc as the head flew into the wall and the body dropped to the floor.

Aedan sighed, wiping the blood off his face with his cloak as the rest of the party put their weapons away, and Striker dropped back to the floor, stub of a tail wagging. "Was that really necessary, Sten? We could have questioned him and got more information about Genitivi."

Sten shot him an impassive look, wiping off his sword before sheathing it as well. "The _saarebas_ would not have told you anything useful."

"I am inclined to agree, actually," Zevran said cheerfully. "He did not strike me as the type that torture works well on."

"And just how would you know that?" Alistair asked wryly, eyeing the elf.

"Well, my friend, I am glad you asked. You see, I have had my fair share of experience in the past –"

"Let's just see what he was hiding, shall we?" Aedan interrupted, rolling his eyes as he reached for the door handle again.

"A dead body," Ayla supplied unnecessarily, as the door opened and the smell wafted out, far stronger than before. The others grimaced and wrinkled their noses as they could finally smell what she had all along. "Dead for quite some time," she managed, covering her nose and mouth as her stomach rolled from the initial blast.

"Probably Brother Genitivi, with our luck," Aedan groused as they entered the back room. Ayla followed, willing her stomach to stay still as she kept her hand over her face, waving off Alistair's look of concern.

The back room actually was full of books and papers, scattered on every available surface, including a desk next to a bed, making it appear as though the room was both a bedroom and a study. In the back corner was the body, unceremoniously dumped there to lie in a pool of its own blood. Although it had begun to decompose and rot already, they could make out enough of the features to see that it was a relatively young man.

"I believe this one is too young to be the scholar you were searching for," Wynne remarked after her study of the body. Ayla had stayed as far back from the body as she could, wondering how the old woman had been able to stand the stench. "He is likely the real assistant to Brother Genitivi."

Aedan nodded in agreement. "That mage out there was probably an impostor trying to lead astray anyone who came looking for the Brother. He was trying to feed me some story about how Genitivi had gone to Lake Calenhad before I noticed Striker."

"We still need to find out where the Brother went to," Alistair pointed out. "This makes it far more likely that he actually discovered something about the Urn."

"Good point," Aedan murmured, glancing around the room. "No need to lead someone astray unless there was something to find. We'll have to look through these papers, see if we can find anything. Zevran, Sten, do you think you could –" he nodded at the dead body.

"Hide the evidence?" the elf finished for him. "But of course, my friend. I am certain I can find a better place for this. Let us go find something to cover the bodies with, shall we?" he addressed the qunari as he left the room. Sten grunted in reply, following him.

A short while later, after the two had removed the body and the rest of them had started the search through the papers, Morrigan finally came across something in the scholar's notes. "I believe this is what you were searching for," she stated in a bored tone, waving a piece of parchment at Aedan.

Aedan took the parchment from her, scanning through it. "Yes, it sounds like he found a village called Haven in the mountains to the west. I have never heard of it, but he believed it was near a temple where Andraste's ashes had been lain to rest."

"How far away is it?" Alistair asked, as the rest of them gathered around Aedan.

Aedan laid out the parchment on top of the desk. It appeared to be a map of what Ayla assumed was Ferelden, as she could see Denerim and the Circle Tower and a few other places marked out on it. A circle had been drawn in the mountain ranges depicted on the western portion of the map, with an arrow pointing to it and 'Haven?' written by it. Several paragraphs had been scrawled in a hasty hand below the map. "Probably two to three weeks' journey from Denerim," Aedan replied thoughtfully after a more thorough study of the map. "Think it's worth looking into?"

Alistair looked suddenly uncomfortable that Aedan had diverted the decision to him, shrugging. "Well, as you said, he must have found something, or what would be the point to turning aside people who came looking for him? That mage might have been some sort of guardian for the Urn."

"It's very likely," Ayla agreed. "If that Urn is as powerful as you all say it is, there must be some sort of guardians devoted to protecting it. It would only make sense."

"Though 'tis an awfully long way to go on mere speculation," Morrigan pointed out sceptically. "Particularly when you have so much else to contend with."

"But the Arl would be a great asset with a large part of what we have to contend with," Aedan mused. "Which is Loghain and the civil war he's started. Teagan's a good man, but he does not yet have the clout Eamon does. I think that we have to try, now that it looks like this Brother Genitivi has actually stumbled onto something. Does everyone agree?"

Alistair nodded in response as Aedan's eyes fell on him, and one by one, the others offered their agreement as well, Morrigan more reluctantly, but she did, stating that if everyone else wanted to waste their time, she could care less.

Though Ayla did not know this Eamon or the politics of this world well, she did firmly believe that it was not a coincidence that somebody was trying to keep whatever Brother Genitivi had found out a secret. The others seemed sceptical that these ashes could truly be a miraculous cure for the Arl, but Ayla knew that the Goddess had often provided such miracles in Fallor; why couldn't they happen here? So she agreed without any reluctance.

"It's settled, then," Aedan stated, rolling up the parchment and tucking it into his pack. "Let's go find an inn for the night, then. We'll set off for this Haven place in the morning."

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Later that night, they had all found an inn and were relaxing for the evening. It was a fairly non-descript place called the Red Lion, not overly fancy but not the sort of place frequented by bandits and cutthroats, either. Sten and Wynne had already retired to rooms for the night, taking Striker with them, but the rest had opted to stay up for a little while. Currently, Zevran and Leliana were dancing on one side of the tavern by the band of minstrels that was playing near a crowded dance floor, while Morrigan, Aedan, Alistair and Ayla had opted to sit in a booth and enjoy a few drinks.

Ayla had just gone up to the bar to get more ale for her and Alistair. He had told her in a low voice earlier that had made her shiver that Aedan had arranged for the two of them to have a room to themselves, as she had hoped. She could hardly wait until they retired for the night, but she didn't mind taking some time to relax and have fun with the others first. This was the first time they'd ever all been able to relax at a tavern together, and she knew from experience that such opportunities would be few and far between.

They had all abandoned their armor and most of their weapons for once as well, dressed in casual clothing in order to blend in better. She was wearing a pair of well-fitted leather leggings Leliana had picked up for her earlier when she'd bought the cloaks, insisting she needed something besides the loose cotton outfits she'd been wearing around camp, as well as a fitted green tunic with a low neckline. She was not wearing her swords for once, though she still had her daggers hidden on her person. She smiled to herself as she waited for the drinks, remembering the admiring look on Alistair's face when he'd seen her new outfit.

He looked quite good himself too, dressed in a black tunic with lacing at the top that he'd left somewhat open, allowing her a glimpse of that well-muscled chest of his she so admired, and tan trousers as well. Aedan wore a similar outfit, though his tunic was a pale blue, and Morrigan had flatly refused to wear anything but the outfit she'd left the Wilds with, ignoring the stares of the patrons when she'd come into the tavern with it on.

The barkeep finally set the mugs down in front of her, and she nodded her thanks as she paid before turning around, intending to head back to their table. She stopped as she saw one of the barmaids talking to Alistair. A particularly buxom blonde barmaid, with a good deal of cleavage showing that she was making sure he had every opportunity to look at as she smiled and tossed her hair at him.

Ayla scowled, her hands tightening around the mugs as sudden, sickening jealousy poured through her. Never mind that it looked as though Alistair wasn't even staring at the woman's cleavage, but rather smiling politely and conversing with her, or that he didn't have the lust on his face that he had when he'd looked at her earlier; she could not stop the fury and jealousy from boiling through her veins.

She'd never felt anything like it before; she wasn't accustomed to being jealous. She'd never actually wanted to keep a man to herself before, so it had never been an issue. She blinked as a sudden thought dashed through her like cold water. Did she really want to keep Alistair to herself, to _possess_ him? That thought brought back the fear of what such a thing could mean, but before she could think about it more, the barmaid laid a hand on Alistair's arm. The jealous rage took her back over and she stalked over to the table.

"Leave," she informed the barmaid curtly. "You're in the way."

She could see Alistair's eyes snap to her in surprise out of the corner of her eye, and heard the muffled snort from Aedan behind her, but she ignored both as she glared fiercely at the barmaid, who had turned to look at her with surprise and annoyance. "Excuse me?" the woman demanded.

"You heard me," she snapped, jaw clenching. "No one here needs _anything_ from you." When the barmaid didn't move immediately, looking as though she were about to protest, Ayla stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Leave, _now_ ," the last came out in a snarl.

The barmaid's eyes widened with sudden fear, before she sniffed and said, "Fine, then." She left with a toss of her blonde hair, sashaying over to another table.

Ayla slapped the mugs down on the table, still feeling ridiculously angry as she sat down in the booth in her spot next to Alistair.

"What was that about?" he demanded incredulously. "Why were you so rude to her?"

Ayla turned the full force of her glare on him, and riding on the high of her fury and jealousy, blurted out the truth before she could think better of it. "Because she was flirting with you, that's why!"

Alistair's eyes widened in shock. "What? She was not! Was she?" He added the last bit uncertainly.

This was apparently too much for Aedan, who burst into outright laughter across the table, and even Morrigan started chuckling. "Yes, she . . . absolutely . . . was," Aedan choked out between bouts of laughter.

Ayla gaped at Alistair, feeling sudden embarrassment flood her. She'd been so utterly jealous, and he hadn't even _noticed_ he was being flirted with? A sudden, beautiful smile spread across his face as he looked at her, one she remembered from the Fade when he'd been so happy about his dream, and it caused the fury and jealousy to come tumbling back. "What are you so bloody happy about? Did you _want_ her to flirt with you?"

His smile spread wider, his eyes sparkling. "No. I'm happy because you were jealous, weren't you?" His tone was full of wonder.

Heat flooded her face as the embarrassment came back, drowning everything else out. "W-what? I was not jealous!"

Aedan was by now laughing so hard she was pretty sure he couldn't breathe, as he slapped the table with his amusement. Morrigan drawled, "Come now, Ayla, why else chase off the barmaid? Not that I blame you. I am not the type to share either, though why you would care about whether someone wanted _that_ fool I'm sure I do not know."

Even Alistair was looking at her as though he didn't believe her, and she sighed, admitting defeat even as her face flamed. "Fine, maybe I was . . . a little jealous."

Alistair took her hand in his, squeezing it gently as he smiled warmly at her. "Ayla . . . you know how I feel about you. You have absolutely no need to be jealous. I have no interest in any woman but you. I'm yours." He said the last so simply and with such utter conviction that she could only stare at him.

A flood of emotions tumbled through her at his words. First and foremost was a feeling she could not put a name to, a bubbly, light warmth that spread through her chest. She thought she could feel relief and happiness as well. The one that she could best put a name to was the desire that burned through her veins on the heels of his words. It wasn't like she hadn't wanted him before, but now, she wanted him with a sudden ferocity that surprised even her.

She had no idea what to say in response, though; words were failing her completely. So she did the only thing she could think of, forgetting their audience entirely; the only thing that she was good at. She acted.

She took his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers. If she could not respond to him with words, she would show him her response. She started the kiss off slowly, gently, tenderly, trying to convey that bubbly warm feeling his words had given her. She took his bottom lip in her teeth and nibbled at it gently. She felt the moan that rumbled from him into her mouth, sparking flames all along her body.

His mouth suddenly opened beneath hers, allowing her to deepen the kiss, even as his hands drifted from her waist down to her bottom, lifting her easily into his lap. She went gladly, straddling his lap and pressing her body flush against his as she twined her arms around his neck, gripping his hair in one hand. She poured the full extent of her desire into her kiss now as she tried to show him the ferocity of the passion that had overtaken her.

He responded with equal passion as their mouths tangled in frantic desperation, as his hands roamed every inch of her body that he could reach. One burningly warm, calloused hand found its way underneath her tunic and slid over her bare skin until it found her breastband, kneading one breast gently. She groaned into his mouth as pulsating flames burst into life between her legs, and she ground herself on his lap, luxuriating in the feel of his growing hardness right where she most wanted it.

She felt his breath hitch as his other hand tightened around her bottom and his hips involuntarily bucked beneath her. They were both fast spiralling out of control, and had Ayla been more sober, she might have thought to stop, but right now she couldn't think of anything but him.

That was until Aedan cleared his throat loudly behind them. "We are trying to keep a low profile, remember? Everyone in here is staring at you two."

The words were like a dash of cold water on her enflamed senses, and Alistair must have felt the same; they jerked their heads back at the same time, and his hands immediately went to the safer territory of her waist while they both tried to recover their breath. Ayla chanced a quick glance around her; indeed, most of the people in the tavern that weren't dancing were staring at the two of them, some with amusement, others with disgust or horror, and some of the men were eyeing her with hunger. Alistair must have noticed that as well; his hands tightened reflexively on her waist as he frowned, before gently lifting her off and setting her down next to him.

Ayla glanced across the table at Aedan and Morrigan, feeling rather embarrassed that she had so totally forgotten where she was. They both looked rather amused, however. "Perhaps you two should go somewhere more quiet to finish your . . . ah . . . conversation?" Aedan suggested, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

Morrigan's lips were twitching as well, though she hid her amusement better. "I might understand your reluctance to share a little better now. Indeed, I did not think the Templar capable of such a public display."

"Oh, do shut up, you two," Ayla retorted, though there was little heat in it as she could not help but feel amused herself. Particularly when she chanced a look over at Alistair, who was so red now that even the tips of his ears were flaming. "Come on, Alistair, let's go. They probably want to head to their own room, soon, anyway, since Aedan does _so_ enjoy getting Morrigan alone."

She cast a wickedly knowing grin at Aedan, who was now turning red himself, even as Morrigan chuckled. She grabbed Alistair's hand and dragged him out of the booth and towards the stairs leading up to their room, ignoring the whistles and catcalls that followed them, one of which she was pretty sure came from Zevran.

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Alistair had never been as conflicted in all his life as he was when he followed Ayla to their room. Although he'd known this was coming, and indeed, had looked forward to it for the last couple of weeks, he was now suddenly and unbelievably nervous. He didn't understand it; it wasn't like he hadn't been intimate with her before, in various other ways. Sure, this was a little different in that they would finally be totally together, but they'd been naked in each other's arms before. Yet he felt as nervous as he had that very first time they were together on the riverbank.

On the other hand, though, after the way she'd kissed him down in the tavern, he wanted her more than he'd ever believed possible. He had been almost overcome with joy at the knowledge that she'd actually been jealous over him, and he couldn't help but feel there was something different about that kiss. It had been almost – dare he say it – loving – before they'd both completely lost control and forgot entirely where they were. Which had added embarrassed and ashamed to the list of emotions he was currently feeling, and his arousal had dampened fairly quickly. Now he wasn't sure just what to do.

Ayla reached the room and opened it using the key Aedan had provided them with, before tugging him inside and closing the door behind them, locking it and tossing the key on the table just inside the door. It was a nice room, with a fireplace merrily crackling against one wall, a large, comfortable looking bed with a red bedspread across from it, the well-carved table by the door, and a vanity against another wall, while there was a red screen portioning off one corner of the room. Candles were lit and placed on the surfaces around the room as well.

"Now, where were we?" Ayla asked brightly, turning to look at him with desire still flashing in those green eyes of hers.

"Um, Ayla, I . . . " he began uncertainly, cursing himself for the nervousness he still felt.

"What's the matter?" She looked him over, brows drawing together in concern. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No, no," he said hastily. "Maker, no. I've - I've never done this before, you know that. And I do want it to be with you, while we have the chance. I'm just . . ."

"Nervous?" she guessed, and he nodded miserably in response. "Don't be. There's nothing to be nervous about." She smiled at him reassuringly. "We're just enjoying our time alone together, remember? Without an audience, this time."

He flushed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed all over again. "About that, Ayla, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me –"

"Stop." She held up a hand to halt him. "You have nothing to apologize for; if anything, that was my fault. But there's nothing wrong with us desiring one another, and letting it get a little out of hand when we both had a little too much to drink. It's nothing to be ashamed of; it didn't go too far. Besides," she added, a smile spreading across her face, "I don't regret it, do you?"

Did he regret it? He tried to think of it without the voice of the Revered Mother ringing in his head. He was quite certain that her jealousy and her kiss meant that, even if she couldn't say it, she was coming to love him. And given the spirit of that kiss, how could he ever regret it? Besides, it wasn't as though he'd never seen other people in intimate embraces in public; he had just never thought he'd be involved in one. Certainly, it was the most memorable and enjoyable experience he'd ever had in a tavern, if he left out the awkwardness afterward. He'd almost lost her, he reminded himself; how could he ever regret any moment in her arms after that? "No," he shook his head, smiling down at her. "I don't."

"Good." She closed the distance between them. "Kiss me again, then, and we'll go from there. No pressure, all right? Let's just enjoy the privacy."

As if he needed another reminder of why he loved her, he thought, warmed by her generous understanding all over again. He reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close as he dipped his head and kissed her gently, losing himself in the taste and feel of her soft lips. He felt her arms wrap around his neck and her body pressed tightly against his, the feel of her warm curves sending fire racing through him as he began to forget why he'd been nervous.

Remembering what she'd done earlier, he nipped at her bottom lip and she gasped, opening her mouth to him as he delved his tongue inside, sweeping it through her sweet mouth. As it had happened down in the tavern, the kiss quickly took on a life of its own as he felt as though he couldn't get enough of her. As had happened so many times before with her, his nervousness washed completely away in the wake of his blazing desire for her. Without even realizing it, he'd scooped her up and her legs had hooked around his waist. He squeezed that delightfully round rear of hers that he found he enjoyed more and more, and she gasped into his mouth, rocking her hips against him.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, trying to catch his breath as arousal rocketed through him straight to his groin. She had a hand clutched in his hair, which she used to pull his head to the side and bite down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. "Ayla," he moaned as a white-hot jolt of lust made him now painfully hard as she began to suck and bite her way along his neck.

He suddenly wanted both of their clothes off badly, was his only coherent thought as he stumbled towards the bed, never letting go of her. He let her down gently, but she didn't release her grip on him, using the strength of her legs and arms to pull him down on top of her. "Hold on a minute," he gasped, bracing himself with his arms and trying to ignore just how right it felt to be pressing her down into a soft bed. "Clothes need to come off, remember?"

She pulled her head back and let go of him, looking up at him with eyes blazing with lust. "Take them off fast," she ordered him breathlessly, reaching to take off her tunic.

He stood up and quickly obeyed, undressing quite possibly the fastest he ever had in his life, as she followed suit, clothes flying around the room. When they were both undressed, he stopped and stared at her, drinking in the sight of her. He'd never gotten to see her so fully, since it was usually in the woods after dark when they had been together, and now he could see every glorious inch of her in the light of the candles and the fire. She was studying him with equal hunger, he noticed suddenly as his eyes landed on her face, which caused him to blush. Her eyes suddenly snapped up to him.

"You said that you're mine, right?" He nodded wordlessly; there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he was hers, heart, soul, and body. He was surprised by the lust that flashed in her eyes when he nodded. "Then show me."

He didn't need to be told twice; he joined her on the bed, leaning his weight on his arms as he settled between her legs and nipped her neck as she had done to his. Her arms and legs wrapped around him again and she arched up in to him, causing him to shudder and moan as his arousal brushed against her wet heat. He pulled her back a little so he could kiss and lick his way down to her breasts; he wanted to taste them again.

He found a nipple and took it in his mouth, sucking at first gently and then a little harder. She gasped and tipped her head back, allowing him better access. He began to play with her other breast with one hand, at first kneading, then pinching her nipple and flicking it as he began to alternate between sucking and nipping the other one. Maker, he loved the noises she made, he thought hazily as she clutched at his hair. She rubbed herself against him again, and he could feel how hot and wet she was, causing him to buck against her. He was fast losing control, he realized; this was the part where they had always had to stop or reach their completion in other ways, only, he didn't have to stop this time, did he?

She yanked his head back so she could look him in the eyes; she looked as dazed as he felt. "Please, Alistair, now," she begged. "I want you –" she gasped again as he tugged at her nipple, moaning out, "Only you."

Her eyes widened as she seemed to realize what it was she'd just said; but Alistair gave her no time to think about it, swooping down to kiss her fiercely, desperately. He couldn't believe the surge of lust that had raced through him when she'd said that; he suddenly realized why she'd reacted with such lust when he'd said he was hers. _Only you_ raced through his mind as he held her close with one arm, kissing her with all the desire and love he felt for her. She responded just as fiercely, until he couldn't breathe again and pulled his mouth away, burying his face in the crook of her neck and trying to catch his breath.

Her legs unwrapped from him and his whole body jerked when he felt her hand wrap around his length. He lifted his head, staring at her with wide eyes, trying not to lose all control right then and there. "Are you ready?" she asked him huskily. He could only nod; he didn't want to wait anymore, he wasn't sure he even could.

Her legs fell apart as she guided him to her entrance and let go once the tip of his erection was seated in her wet heat. He shuddered just from the feel, trying to hold back from what all his base instincts were screaming at him to do, which was to bury himself in her in one quick thrust, but he didn't want to hurt her. As strong as she was, she was still a lot smaller than him.

"Don't hold back, Alistair," she gasped, arching her hips up so that she slid a little further along his length. "You won't hurt me – and I like it when you lose control . . ."

Almost before she'd finished her words, he thrust himself fully in her, throwing his head back with a growl as he felt her warmth close around him. She gave a sharp cry, her arms clutching at him as their hips met. He'd thought that he had an idea of how this felt, given all the other things they'd done together, but he had never in his wildest dreams imagined it feeling as incredible as this did. The sensation of completion, of oneness, of utter rightness as her body enveloped him was unbelievable.

He'd frozen in place, just to try to take in the feeling, but she tugged on his hair. "Don't stop now!"

He looked down at her, locking eyes with her, his breath leaving him at the heat in her gaze as he slowly pulled back, then thrust forward again. He loved the sound that dropped from her lips as she rose up to meet him. "Ayla – I'm yours – in every way, now and always," he groaned.

Her eyes flared and she pressed her lips to his shoulder, kissing and biting her way across his chest as they moved together. "Faster," she said breathlessly, scraping her nails across his back. "Don't hold back . . . please . . ."

So he didn't. He let go of any semblance of control or discipline, and let his instincts take over, thrusting in and out of her, harder and faster. She wrapped her legs around him again and they began to crash together. Fire was burning in his blood and he could feel that winding pressure that meant he would hit his release soon, even as he felt her tightening around him.

She was gasping and shuddering as they moved, and he knew she was as close as he was. No matter how many times he brought her pleasure, he still couldn't believe that he was the one that was doing it; his own arousal spiralled higher at the thought even as hers did. He leaned his head down and closed his mouth around her breast again, sucking hard; she let out a keening cry of his name as he did so, her body convulsing around him as she arched sharply against him. Hearing his name on her lips and seeing the glow in her eyes as her body relaxed brought his own desire crashing over him; a few more erratic thrusts and he spilled inside her, shuddering, feeling as though he'd exploded, crying out her name in turn as he buried his face in her neck.

He just barely had the presence of mind not to collapse on top of her; instead, he rolled to the side, bringing her with him to lay on his chest, not letting go of her for a second.

He didn't know how long they both laid there, catching their breath as he stroked her soft skin, running his hands over every bit of her he could touch. He would never get enough of feeling her; he would never be able to stop touching her. Her hands drifted over him as well, tracing patterns over his torso, and she occasionally would run her foot up and down his leg.

"You know," he said at last, when he'd finally recovered enough brainpower to speak, "according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."

She looked up at him, her eyes lighting with amusement. "Are you so sure you weren't struck by lightning?"

He grinned. "Well, if that's what it feels like, it's hardly an effective deterrent, now is it? In fact, I think I want it to happen as often as possible."

She smiled in response, looking suddenly mischievous. "As often as possible? Is that so?"

"If you'll allow it, of course," he amended, squeezing her waist.

"Oh, I think you might be able to persuade me," she teased lightly, running her hand up and down his chest. "So, no regrets, then?"

"Maker, _no_ ," he answered, surprised that she'd even asked that, or that there had been a touch of vulnerability in her eyes when she had. "No, it was . . . amazing," he told her, bringing her up to press a gentle kiss on her lips. "Beyond anything I'd imagined."

"Good," she murmured in response, even as a flush passed over her face. "I'm glad to hear it." She kissed him back, a long, lingering kiss that had arousal running through his veins again. "Want to get struck by lightning again?"

"So much," he growled, kissing her hard before rolling her underneath him. She squealed in surprise before laughing, the sound cascading through him, making him smile before he bent his head to kiss her again. He spent the rest of the night in her arms, exactly where he belonged.


	24. Head Over Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after for Ayla and Alistair, and Alistair wants to know where they go from here. Ayla is still unsure of how she feels, but asks that they continue as they have been for now, and Alistair agrees. Later, on the road to Haven, Alistair comes across Ayla bathing and is unable to control himself. *Smut - please stop reading after the song if you're not interested, and go down to the next break in the chapter*. The party finally arrives at Haven, and Sten challenges Aedan's leadership.

Chapter 24: Head Over Feet

When Ayla awoke the next morning, she felt both deliciously sore and utterly comfortable. They'd been together four more times throughout the night, and Alistair had learned as quickly as ever, seeming to take special care to memorize what she liked best and then reuse that throughout the night. She had, of course, returned the favour. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit it was the best night she'd ever had. What she'd told Alistair before was true; being with him was somehow different and better than it had ever been before, though she didn't understand why that was. Not that it mattered, anyway, she told herself; last night had been well worth the wait.

It had to be late morning by now, judging by the sunlight that streamed through the gaps in the red curtains into the room. Though Aedan had said they were leaving today, he hadn't set a specific time, saying they could sleep in while they had the chance; there would be no more beds on the way to Haven. However, she suspected someone would come looking for them soon, which meant she should get up.

She did not want to, though. She felt more comfortable than she could ever remember being in a long time, curled in the soft bed with a naked and sleeping Alistair wrapped around her back. He was holding her in the same fashion he had been that previous morning in his tent, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist and his leg tangled in with hers, his head tucked atop hers. She could feel his heart beating steadily and soothingly against her. She could get used to waking up like this, she decided.

She was feeling so calm and happy at the moment that the thought did not even panic her as it would ordinarily have done. She didn't just enjoy bedding him; she enjoyed sleeping in his arms, too. In fact, she was going to make a point of doing so from now on. Why not just take Leliana's advice and enjoy every moment possible with him?

It really was time to get up, though, she thought with a sigh. She tried to gently disentangle herself from Alistair's arms so she could get out of bed without waking him, giving him a few more minutes of sleep. She needn't have bothered; his arm tightened around her as soon as she tried to move, hauling her back against him as he mumbled something incoherently into her hair.

"We need to get up, Alistair," she pointed out, tugging ineffectually at his arm.

"No," he replied, his voice thick with sleep in a way that made her shiver. "I don't want to."

She smiled, both pleased and amused at his response. "Someone will come looking for us soon."

"Don't care," he grumbled. "I want to stay here with you." As if to emphasize his point, his hand that was splayed on her stomach pushed her hips back further against his, causing her breath to hiss out through her teeth at the realization he was ready to go again.

She bit her lip, trying to steady out her breathing as she thought of something that she knew would distract him. "It looks like Morrigan was right."

"Morrigan?" he yelped, scrambling back from her, now fully awake. "What has that witch been telling you?!"

She sat up, turning to face him. He looked so sexy, with his strawberry-blonde hair dishevelled, his eyes wide, and stubble growing across his jaw. Not to mention that wonderfully muscular body of his. How could it be possible to want him again so much and so soon? "Oh, she was just telling me that Grey Wardens appear to have impressive stamina," she replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I thought she was exaggerating, but obviously she wasn't."

"Impressive stamina?" he repeated, eyebrows raised, obviously completely confused now. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She was able to keep from laughing, though just barely. "Well, most men wouldn't be able to recover quite so quickly, or . . . perform quite so many times in one night. It appears Grey Wardens can add increased stamina in bed to their list of skills." She grinned broadly as he turned red.

"So . . ." he said slowly, eyeing her, "that's a good thing, right?"

She did laugh this time. "A very good thing. You have definitely impressed me." She winked at him.

He was still red, but smiling now as he reached for her. "Have I, now? Maybe I should impress you again."

She swatted his hand away, though not without regret. "Don't you dare!" she exclaimed. "We have to get ready to leave!"

He pouted at her. "Come on," he wheedled. "No one will notice if we take just a little bit longer. Please?"

"No," she said, trying to be stern and ignore the heat in his hazel eyes. "Besides, I'm not sure _I'm_ fully recovered yet." She got out of the bed, unable to stop the slight wince as she straightened up. It _had_ been a while, after all, and certainly never that many times in one night.

"Ayla!" His expression was completely contrite now as he was across the bed in an instant to stand at her side, wrapping a supporting arm around her. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!"

"No, I'm fine," she hastened to reassure him, feeling guilty that she'd worried him. "Just a little sore, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh." He looked relieved, though he didn't let go of her. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she replied, slipping out of his grasp as she headed across the room. If he kept touching her, she was definitely never going to want to leave. "Now we really do have to get ready to go."

"All right," he agreed reluctantly, following her to where they'd left their packs and armor before heading down to the tavern last night.

They cleaned themselves up quickly before they began to get dressed, donning their armor this time instead of their casual clothing. Ayla was done before Alistair, and began helping him get on the new suit of full plate armor Aedan had picked up for him at the smith's, which was far heavier than his previous armor, and had more buckles and straps as well.

"So . . ." Alistair began hesitantly, as she pulled tight one of the buckles and began working on another piece, "what now? Where do we go from here?"

She frowned, puzzled as to what exactly he was talking about. "What do you mean? We're going to Haven, aren't we?"

"No, I meant –" he let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. "Where do _you_ and _I_ go from here?"

"Oh." She chewed on her lip, her heart pounding nervously, trying to think of what to say as she concentrated on his armor, not looking him in the eyes. What should she say? What did he want her to say? She still didn't know if she was in love with him or not, but she also knew she wanted many more nights like last night. "Could we not . . . keep going as we have been? Only, putting your tent to better use this time?"

He let out a breath, and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Does that mean you want to stay with me?" He looked unusually serious, but his hazel eyes were warm, giving her that bubbly feeling again.

"Well, I-I guess," she stammered, cursing the fact that she wasn't better at this. "I mean . . . don't you want to spend more nights like last night?"

He smiled warmly down at her, his hazel eyes darkening, even as he looked a little sad. "Of course I do. I want whatever time I can have with you." He kissed her lightly before letting go of her chin. "You know the rest of our little party here is going to talk, right?"

"Let them," she said cheerfully, returning to his armor and safer ground, feeling both relieved that he'd changed the subject and guilty that she obviously hadn't said exactly what he wanted to hear. "I have plenty of material to blackmail them with, especially Aedan."

He laughed, and her heart lightened at how happy he sounded as she finished securing the last strap. "You see? This is why I love you."

She almost gasped at his words as her previous panic and nerves returned with a crash, looking up at his wide eyes. He obviously hadn't meant to let that slip out, judging by the alarm she saw reflected there. "Alistair . . . are you sure you really love me?" she asked hesitantly, trying to steady her racing heart. Maybe it was time to talk about his feelings, at least a little bit, before she got any deeper. She truly didn't understand how he could feel that way about her, and how he'd just seemed to _know_. "Are you sure you're not just . . . grateful, maybe, or confused, because I'm your first?"

"What?" he snapped, grabbing her tightly by the shoulders. She looked up; his mouth was set and his eyes were blazing. "Do you honestly think that just because you're the first woman I've been with, that I'm some confused, naïve child who doesn't know how he feels?!"

"Alistair, no, I'm sorry," she sighed, exasperated with herself and her inability to identify or express her feelings properly. "That's not what I meant . . . I just . . . I don't understand . . . how do you _know_?" _How does anyone know? How am **I** supposed to know?_

His grip on her shoulders loosened as the anger drained out of his face. "Oh. I'm sorry," he blew out a breath and she shook her head to let him know he didn't need to apologize. He cupped her face in his hands gently. "Well – I've never felt about any woman the way I feel about you. Not the women I found attractive before I met you; not even a demon pretending to be you. No one makes me feel the way you do. And, if something happens to you, I don't think I would be able to survive it. That's how I know."

She gripped his wrists, pulling his hands away, and looked up at him, confused, even as her heart was inexplicably light and dancing. "What do you mean, a demon that's pretending to be me?"

He twined his hands gently through hers, even as he looked away, flushing. "Well – I was trapped in a different illusion before that one you found me in. There was a demon pretending to be you. When she – it – kissed me," his face turned even redder, "it wasn't the same. Even though I really thought it was you, it didn't feel the same at all. That's how I broke free of that illusion – I knew it couldn't really be you."

Ayla thought back to her own illusion. The impostor Alistair had never actually kissed her in the short time she'd been trapped in it; the thing had touched her once or twice, and she realized Alistair was right. It hadn't felt the same as it did when he touched her. There wasn't that same spark of fire, or feeling of comfort, or any of that. In fact, she'd had an odd feeling about the impostor, but before she'd been able to place it, her father had appeared, which had completely taken her focus away from anything else.

So, what did it all mean? Because no man had ever made her feel the way Alistair had, she knew that much. And he claimed that was how he knew he loved her. That and he wouldn't survive it if he lost her. Did she – could she – truly love him? Before she could think further on it, however, a knock came at the door.

"Are you two done yet?" Aedan shouted through the door. "Because if you don't come out in the next five minutes, I swear I will get Zevran to pick the lock and come in!"

The elf's chuckle drifted through the door. "If you wish to keep going, I assure you I would not mind. I am certain it would be quite a sight."

Ayla couldn't help but laugh as Alistair sighed and rolled his eyes, the tension of the previous moment dissolving quickly. "Do you understand now?" he asked her quietly, squeezing her hands.

She nodded. "I do, and I believe you." She did, now; seeing the conviction in his eyes as he'd told her how he knew, and the warmth that still lingered there even now, she knew he meant what he said. But – "I still need time to think about . . . how I feel."

He smiled before he bent his head and kissed her, slowly, gently, leaving her tingling. "I can wait, as I promised. I didn't mean to say it again before you were ready. We will keep going as before, only with me impressing you with my stamina." He winked at her. "Right?"

She laughed, relieved that he continued to understand her so well, and that he was being so patient with her. "Right. And with only one tent for the two of us."

Aedan began loudly counting outside the door, causing Alistair to turn and shout, "By Andraste's flaming sword, Aedan! We will be right out!"

There was a second of shocked silence on the other side of the door before Aedan and Zevran started laughing. Seeing the half-annoyed, half-amused look on Alistair's face as they gathered up their remaining belongings, Ayla couldn't help laughing herself.

They reached the door and Alistair jerked it open. Aedan and Zevran were still waiting out there, though they had managed to get their laughter under control. "Ah, already dressed, I see," Zevran sighed in disappointment as they both emerged in the hallway. "Here I was hoping to see both of you naked."

"W-what?" Alistair spluttered, turning red. Ayla bit on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as the other two dissolved into laughter again at the look on Alistair's face. He pointed a finger sternly at them both. "One more word out of the two of you and I'm feeding you both to the darkspawn."

This only caused them to laugh harder as Ayla took his arm and led him down the hallway. "Come on, let's go find the others," she urged, trying to keep the laughter out of her own voice. "We have a long way to go to get to Haven." He nodded and let her lead him, and as she studied his profile, she sincerely hoped that somewhere along that journey, she would finally be able to figure out how she felt about him.

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They were a week out of Denerim, and hopefully halfway to Haven, Alistair thought as he made his way down to the river to bathe. They'd made camp for the night, and as they'd run into a band of darkspawn earlier, he wanted to get all the blood and grime off him for the night. Especially since he would be sharing a tent with Ayla later. They'd abandoned all pretense of keeping separate tents since they left Denerim; every night since his tent had become their tent and hers no longer got set up.

It had been the best week of his life, really. It was the way he wanted to spend the rest of his life, having her in his arms every night, waking up to her every morning. The only thing that could possibly have made this week better was if he could be completely certain she felt the same way.

He was _pretty_ certain she felt the same way, given all his evidence from Denerim. Her jealousy, that kiss, the fact that she'd said she only wanted him; but she'd never said the words he really wanted to hear. And though she had said she wanted to stay with him, she hadn't really said that in the way he wanted to hear, either. There had been no talk of always or forever; only many more nights.

But when he'd explained how he knew he loved her, he thought he'd seen a spark of recognition in her eyes. At least, up until they'd been interrupted by Aedan. He'd been annoyed with Aedan for days over that; also because Aedan and Zevran had taken every opportunity to tease him about Ayla since then. Well, Aedan had finally stopped after Ayla had caught him at it and whispered something in his ear that made him turn bright red; but she hadn't found any way to make Zevran stop yet. But in all honesty, he enjoyed the teasing as much as he found it annoying; he thought having brothers must be rather like that, and it reminded him of the way the other Wardens had been around each other. So he was willing to leave it alone, for now, anyway.

He suddenly caught the sound of a woman singing as he approached the river. He frowned, and was about to turn back, in case it was one of the other women, but he realized it was Ayla's voice. He froze in his tracks, then crept a little closer, able to walk quietly for once as he wasn't wearing his armor. He slipped carefully around the last stand of trees that was between him and the river, and finally had an unobstructed view from the bank.

He couldn't see her just yet; she must be a little further down the river. He'd thought she was out hunting with Morrigan, and hadn't intended to come upon her bathing, but he couldn't say he exactly regretted it. He heard splashing as she came closer, and he could finally make out the words she was singing. It wasn't one of the fast-paced songs that she normally taught Leliana; no, this sounded like . . . a love song.

_You treat me like I'm a princess_  
I'm not used to liking that  
You ask how my day was 

_You've already won me over in spite of me_  
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet  
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are  
I couldn't help it  
It's all your fault 

_Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole  
You're so much braver than I gave you credit for *_

Was she singing this song because this was how she felt about him? Alistair wondered, shocked and hopeful. Before he could think on it further, she came into view, drifting on her back on the water, completely nude. The sun was setting, but not down completely yet, which meant he could still see every beautiful curve clearly. All thoughts fled his mind as the blood in his body flowed straight south; he gasped with the force of his sudden want for her.

Some part of him had thought that after he'd finally lain with her, he wouldn't want her quite so badly. This had proven itself completely false over the last week; if anything, his desire for her had only become worse. He could barely control himself anymore from wanting her at the most inopportune times. If he didn't wear full plate armor most of the time, he would likely have already taken her up against a tree on the side of the road more than once. She seemed to be similarly affected; he'd caught her green eyes blazing with want at him more than once in the middle of the day, which didn't help his control any. And, of course, they had made rather excellent use of the tent many times already.

It didn't seem to matter how often they were together, though. His want for her never lessened, and even though he'd just made love to her last night, right at this moment, it felt like an eternity since he'd last touched her.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all night, Alistair?" Her voice snapped him out of his daze and he realized she was standing up in the water now, covered up to her neck, looking up at him. He couldn't quite make out her expression as her back was to the sun, but she didn't sound angry. "Because I'd really rather you come and join me."

That was all he needed to hear; he raced down to the river, shedding his clothes as he went before jumping in the water. He sucked in a breath as the cold water washed over him; it wasn't unbearably cold yet, but it was still a shock to his system. Autumn was fast approaching, and the days and nights were getting steadily cooler; he was going to have to get used to a lot more cold baths in the river.

After taking a moment to gather himself, he ducked his head under the water on his way over to Ayla, and used the bar of soap he'd managed to remember to bring into the water with him to rinse the grime and darkspawn blood off his face and anywhere else it had landed first, before tossing the soap back to the riverbank. He didn't want to chance touching her with tainted blood still on him. "How did you know I was there?" he asked as he stopped a foot away from her.

"Well, it is true that for once you weren't making a ridiculous amount of noise," she teased him, grinning. "I actually didn't realize you were there until I caught your scent on the wind. Then I noticed you just staring at me and drooling, so . . ."

"Drooling?" he exclaimed, pretending to be offended, though in truth he wouldn't have been surprised if he had been. In fact, he couldn't seem to stop staring at her right now, with her long hair dripping wet over her shoulders, her lips curving into a wicked smile, and her eyes full of heat as she stared back at him. His eyes drifted down as he wished he could see more of her, but she was covered by the water now. "I was just surprised to see you. I thought you'd gone hunting with Morrigan."

"Oh, well I can if you're disappointed to find me here." She went as if to move past him, but he caught her arm and hauled her up against him. Neither of them was able to stifle their moans as their bodies came into contact below the water. "I was . . . going to go with her," she managed breathlessly. "But she wanted to go alone."

"Good," Alistair muttered, letting go of her arm to trail his hand up into her wet hair. Tangling his hand in it, he pulled her mouth up to his, kissing her slowly, deeply, savouring the taste of her. He pulled away briefly. "I'd rather the two of us were alone together."

"Me too," she whispered, snaking her hand up around his neck to pull his mouth back down to hers.

The kiss was slow and tender at first, but as she pressed her body flush against his, he couldn't stop himself from the sudden fierce desperation that swept through him and he took the kiss deeper. She responded in kind as they kissed fiercely, duelling for control over the kiss as it went back and forth. She was the first to break away so they could both breathe.

Before he had fully recovered, she was nibbling on his earlobe and trailing kisses down his neck. He would never get enough of this, he decided through his haze of passion. Even if he lived as long as the taint allowed him, he would always want the feel of her lips on him, her bare skin and soft curves pressed tightly against his body. He had, just as her song said, fallen head over feet for her. In this moment, he didn't care if she felt exactly the same way or not, or even if someone saw them; he only cared that she was in his arms.

He slid his hands over her body as she continued kissing her way down his. He cupped her backside, feeling her moan against his chest as he did so; he skimmed his hands along the curve of her hips and waist, up past the sides of her breasts. She rocked her hips against him, causing him to groan in response; he wanted nothing more than to be inside of her again. He was achingly hard, and not sure how much longer he could control himself as she nibbled down his chest and scraped her nails down his back.

But he wanted her to be as out of control as he was first. He pulled back from her enough to slip his hand between their bodies and straight between her legs. She gasped as he cupped her, stroking her slowly. "Alistair," she whimpered, burying her face in his chest.

He slid a finger in her, delighting in the strangled noise she made as he did so, and marvelling at the heat of her even underwater. She balanced herself on his shoulders as he slid another finger in and began to move them in and out as she moved her hips in time with his fingers. When he added his thumb to circle that sensitive bundle of nerves she had, she cried out and began to shudder. She reached down and grabbed his arm. "Stop," she panted. "I can't wait any longer. I need you _now_."

He pulled his hand away, and used his hands on her bottom to lift her up as she braced herself on his shoulders again. "Thank the Maker," he whispered in her ear as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "I couldn't wait any longer either."

They both shuddered as she slid herself down onto him, hooking her legs behind him. He thrust further up into her, loving the feel of her warm, welcoming heat as he pulled back slightly and pushed back into her again. She began rocking against him in turn, matching his rhythm with ease as they picked up speed. Wanting to make sure she went first, which was something he was becoming increasingly determined about, he kept her up with one arm while snaking his other hand between their bodies and finding her sensitive spot again.

"Oh, Alistair," she moaned, throwing her head back as he rubbed her with slow, steady circles again. The sight of her like that, water dripping down her body, and the way she moaned his name was nearly enough to make him lose control. He growled low in his throat as he picked up speed with his fingers and never stopped moving his hips. She dug her nails into his back and kept up with him as he felt her start to convulse around him.

He pressed down suddenly and firmly and she exploded around him, leaning over him and biting down hard on his shoulder as she did so. "Ayla!" he cried out as a shaft of lust pierced through him from the pleasure-pain of her bite, and it was enough to send him over the edge as well, as he shuddered into her until he was drained.

Barely able to stand afterwards, he stumbled backwards with her still wrapped around him until the river was shallow enough for him to sit down. He sank down and she let go of him, but only to turn around and sit between his legs with her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder, willing his breathing to even out as he inhaled the scent of her hair, a combination of the outdoors, the river and the flowery soap she favored.

"Why is it that I want you more every time I see you?" he murmured against her neck after they had sat in silence for several minutes.

"I don't know," she replied quietly, leaning her head back against him, "but I feel the same way. In fact, you should wear less armor so next time I don't have to wait until we get back to camp."

He chuckled, kissing her neck lightly. "I would if I could, believe me. But I also need to protect those parts you want to make use of."

She laughed in response. "I suppose you do. Well, I can control myself during the day, I suppose."

"Tell you what," he said thoughtfully. "Once we get the Urn and cure Arl Eamon, we'll spend a whole day in Redcliffe in bed. I'm sure Aedan will give us a couple of days to rest before we go to Orzammar."

"A whole day in bed?" She twisted in his arms to look up at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Are you certain you're up to keeping that promise?"

"Absolutely, my lady," he told her, adding teasingly, "Unless you'd rather I controlled myself and did training exercises instead of thinking how beautiful you look when you wear nothing at all."

She smacked him lightly on the chest, laughing. "No, you do enough training with the sword. I think you need to do some training exercises with _me_ instead. I intend to hold you to that promise."

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. "Your wish is my command."

She grinned wickedly at him. "Good. How soon until we get to Haven? Another week?"

"At least," he said with a sigh, wishing it was sooner as he thought of a soft bed at Redcliffe with her in it. "Maybe longer. The map is a little vague; we don't have the exact location."

"Not to worry," she replied. "I'm sure Morrigan and I can scout it out easily enough. Then we will get your Arl back."

He cupped her cheek gently, drawing her face into his for a kiss. "Thank you," he said softly, touched by her willingness to help him. _I love you_ , he added silently. He didn't want to say it out loud again, not until she was ready to hear it. If that day ever came.

"You're welcome." She kissed him back, sweetly, tenderly, renewing his hope. They spent the rest of that night trying to get enough of each other to avoid temptation on the rest of their journey to Haven.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The village of Haven lies up this path," Morrigan informed them.

Between her and Ayla, it had only taken an extra two days after they had reached the mountains to discover the whereabouts of the small village of Haven, for which Ayla was grateful. They were running low on supplies, and the mountains were damnably cold, especially as she was used to the warmer climate of Fallor.

It was early morning, and though the sun had risen, there was still a significant bite in the air. Ayla had wrapped her pantherskin cloak overtop of the drake-scale armor Aedan had gifted her with, custom-made by the smith in Denerim. The smith had only been able to make one set of armor, and though it protected well against fire, it was a lighter set of armor similar to her leathers not suitable for himself or Alistair. Therefore, he had decided to gift it to her, as the only other fighter with no real long range capability. She'd decided she liked it better than the leathers; it was even more flexible and yet sturdier against weapons. However, it was not any warmer, causing her to spend most of the last week wrapped in her cloak when she wasn't fighting.

Aedan gestured for the party to follow him up the path; they were all relieved they'd finally found Haven. They reached the top of the narrow, stone path, which opened out into the village itself. It appeared to be comprised of several small wooden and stone buildings, set on different levels of the mountainside, with winding paths connecting each level. A heavily armed man in splintmail armor stood at the entrance to the village. He frowned as they approached. "What are you doing in Haven? There's nothing for you here."

Aedan raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by the rude welcome. "We have business here."

"No, you do not," the guard replied curtly. "I would have been informed if someone was expecting . . . a visitor."

_Since when does a village need to schedule its visitors?_ Ayla wondered. She glanced at the others, who looked equally confused, and couldn't shake the sudden sense that this venture of theirs was not going to go smoothly at all.

"Well, they weren't exactly expecting us," Aedan said slowly. Glancing back at everyone briefly, he went on, "Is there a Brother Genitivi here?"

The guard's eyes narrowed briefly before his expression smoothed out into careful disinterest. "Who? Perhaps Revered Father Eirik would know of whom you speak. Unfortunately, he is ministering to the villagers at the moment, and cannot be disturbed."

"A Revered Father, huh?" Alistair looked surprised and thoughtful as he studied the guard. "That's new. I wonder what this means . . ." Noticing Ayla's confused look, he explained, "Priests of the Chantry are almost always women. I've never heard of a Revered Father before, only a Revered Mother."

"It has always been thus in Haven. We do not question tradition," the guard interrupted in an annoyed tone. Judging by the looks on everyone else's faces, though, Ayla could tell this wasn't a tradition any of them had ever heard of.

Aedan shrugged, seeming to accept the fact the guard wasn't going to be of any help to them. "Very well then. Excuse us."

The guard cast one last suspicious glance over the group before stating, "You may trade for supplies at the shop if you wish. Then I suggest you and your companions leave."

"Come on, let's go," Aedan gestured to the others to follow as he went further into the village.

"Did it just get a lot colder?" Alistair muttered as they got out of earshot of the guard. "Or is it just me?"

"They are hiding something," Morrigan remarked, glancing around at the villagers who were scurrying out of their way and avoiding eye contact. "'Tis obvious."

"Hiding what, though?" Ayla asked in a low voice. "The Urn?"

"If we're lucky, yes," Aedan replied. "Let's go to the shop, pick up some supplies and maybe information, and if we don't get anything out of that, we'll go up to the Chantry and talk to this Revered Father of theirs. See if he knows where Brother Genitivi is."

Sten suddenly stepped in front of Aedan, blocking his path, folding his massive arms across his chest. _Uh-oh, here it comes_ , Ayla thought. Sten had been getting increasingly vocal with his displeasure regarding their current mission over the last few days.

"Interesting strategy," Sten observed scornfully. "Tell me, do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the archdemon from the rear?"

Aedan sighed in exasperation. "We've been over this and over this, Sten. This is necessary."

Sten scowled. "Is it? I see. I was mistaken, then. I thought we were climbing a mountain in the middle of nowhere on some frivolous whim of yours."

"Is there a point to this conversation, Sten?" Aedan demanded. "What do you want?"

"Reason," the qunari said shortly. "The archdemon is our goal, and we are heading away from it to find the charred remnants of a dead woman. I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle."

Aedan ran a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. "Well, you don't have to follow me if you don't want to. You're welcome to leave if you like, but I'm in charge and we're going to go look for the Urn."

"Not anymore. I'm taking command," Sten stated coolly.

Aedan spread his hands wide and shrugged. "It's a shame it came to this, but I'm not giving up command to you."

"Defend yourself, Warden," Sten snarled, reaching for his sword. "We will settle this."

Aedan drew his greatsword, facing off with the qunari. "So be it."

Alistair reached for his weapon as well, as the first clash of swords from the two sounded, but Ayla stopped him. "No, let Aedan handle this." She shook her head at Leliana, as well, who was fitting an arrow to her bow. Zevran was merely watching with avid curiosity to see who would win, Morrigan was scowling at Sten but staying out of it, and Wynne was drinking a lyrium potion, presumably to prepare for the upcoming healing. Striker was whimpering off to the side of the battle; the war hound had bonded with Sten and was clearly confused as to why his master and new best friend were trying to kill each other.

Alistair looked down at her, shocked. "What?! Why?"

"If you step in to help Aedan, you'll only prove to Sten that he is right and Aedan isn't worthy of leading the party," Ayla explained. She'd seen her own father deal with mutinies twice throughout his career as Captain, and he'd always told her that the leader must deal with such things on his own. Leaning on anyone else would only prove a leader's lack of worth, he had said. Sten seemed to operate on a similar policy to the shifters, which was that he would not follow anyone he deemed weaker or less worthy than himself. Aedan had to prove his worth.

"But what if Sten kills him?" Alistair hissed.

"If it looks like it is going to go badly, then we will step in," Ayla whispered back. "But not before."

"All right," Alistair murmured reluctantly, watching the fight. "If you say so."

Ayla didn't think Aedan would have a problem dealing with Sten. Certainly, the qunari warrior was larger and stronger than any member of their party, but he was also slow and tended to put rather a lot of effort behind his blows, making them easy for anyone with a modicum of speed to dodge. Aedan, meanwhile, had been working with both herself and Zevran to increase his speed and agility, and while he wore full armor, he favoured a lighter style than either Alistair or Sten. As long as he took care not to try to match Sten's strength or take any of his blows head on, she didn't think he would have a problem.

As she watched, Aedan easily ducked and rolled away from one of Sten's blows, and spun to strike the qunari full across his back. Sten grunted and staggered forward, but the blow wasn't enough to make him fall; he turned and swung at Aedan again, but Aedan was already moving to dodge and strike another blow.

The battle continued in that fashion for a few more minutes; Sten was able to get in a few glancing blows, but with Aedan constantly on the move, he fortunately didn't land anything serious. Aedan finally struck a clean blow through a gap in Sten's armor, causing the qunari to stumble to one knee as blood spilled out, and pressed his sword to Sten's throat. "Are you quite finished now, Sten?" he demanded coolly.

The qunari held up his hands and dropped his sword, dipping his head in acknowledgment. "I was wrong. You are strong enough. What now?"

Aedan shook his head as he wiped off his sword before sheathing it. "It's not just about strength, Sten. But if that's what it takes to make you fall in line, so be it. Now get up and let's go."

Sten struggled to his feet and sheathed his own sword as well. "As you wish."

"Wynne, can you take care of his wound?" Aedan asked, gesturing to the blood still oozing out of the gap in Sten's armor. "Catch up with us when you're done; we'll be at the shop."

"If you insist," Wynne sniffed, stopping by Sten's side to begin casting her magic.

The rest of them followed Aedan up the hill to the next level of the village. As soon as they were out of Sten's sight, Aedan pressed a hand to his side, muttering, "Maker, he might not have me bleed, but I'm fairly certain he cracked a rib or two."

"Foolish men," Morrigan sighed, laying a glowing hand on Aedan's side to heal him. He smiled at her gratefully, a relieved look passing over his face as the magic coursed through him.

"Are you sure it's wise to let him keep travelling with us?" Alistair asked uncertainly. "How do you know he won't just attack you again?"

"He won't," Ayla replied before Aedan had a chance to. "He's quite honourable in his own way; that was a test to see if Aedan was worthy. He passed it, so I expect that will be the end of it."

"I think you're right," Aedan nodded in agreement. "At least, I hope so. I have no desire to go through that again."

"I don't believe any of us have any desire to watch you go through that again, either," Leliana added from the back of the group.

They had reached the shop by this time; it looked the same as any other house in the village, except for the sign hanging above the door. "Let's get some supplies, then, shall we?" Aedan opened the door.

They all followed him, and Ayla sighed with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief as the scent hit her nose before the door had even closed behind them. _Not another dead body_. It was obvious that something was even more wrong in this village than they'd initially suspected. She was going to make sure to find out just what was going on, and find that Urn if it was here, for Alistair's sake if for no other reason. She was going to save Arl Eamon for him, no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Lyrics are taken from Alanis Morrisette's song Head Over Feet. I hadn't really intended to put another song in this fic, but it described Ayla's feelings so perfectly I couldn't help it :).


	25. The Dragon Cult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party uncovers the village's secrets and eventually locate Brother Genitivi, who leads them to the temple that holds the urn. They make their way through the temple, fighting off the villagers that appear to be part of a dragon cult, before finally ending up in a dangerous battle with the high dragon itself.

Chapter 25: The Dragon Cult

Aedan dropped back to stand at her side as they gathered in the store, having obviously overheard her sigh, and the fact that Striker was giving out a low, rumbling growl. "Something the matter, Ayla?" he whispered.

"Another dead body," she answered in a low voice.

His eyebrows shot up as he glanced over at the shopkeeper, who was arranging potions behind his counter. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid I am. It's in the back room again." She indicated the open archway in the back right corner of the room they were currently in, at the far end of the counter. The rest of the room was bare except for the shelves and barrels along the walls that held the store's wares.

"Great," he muttered. "It couldn't just be a simple matter of finding the village and finding the Urn; no, there had to be a dead body involved." He shook his head and started toward the back room with a determined stride.

Ayla and the others watched as the shopkeeper, suddenly realizing where Aedan was headed, ran out from behind the counter. "What are you doing? That's private!"

Aedan stopped a few feet from the door and turned to face the man. "Why? What are you hiding?"

The man scowled in reply, darting an anxious glance at the open doorway behind Aedan. "I don't see how that is any of your concern."

Aedan regarded the shopkeeper for a moment longer before responding, "I'm afraid I have to insist on making it my concern."

"No!" the man shouted, a crazed look crossing his face. "You have no right!" Out of nowhere, he swung his fist at Aedan, who dodged the blow easily in spite of the obvious shock written on his face.

This didn't stop the shopkeeper, however; he continued to swing and relentlessly try to attack Aedan, although he was unarmed and wearing only rough homespun clothing. Ayla was frozen in shock and surprise that the man would actually try to attack a party of six armed people single-handedly with no weapons and no magic; the look on everybody else's face indicated they were equally floored. Striker was growling, but had no move to attack yet, not seeming to believe his master was in serious danger.

Aedan was the first to recover, as the shopkeeper finally landed a punch to his face, making him stagger back a few steps. He unsheathed his sword and ran the man through; he stopped dead, gurgling as blood spilled out of him, before he slumped to his knees and fell backwards, sliding off Aedan's sword.

"What were you thinking?!" Alistair exclaimed in shock, crossing the room as Aedan cleaned his sword off. "He wasn't armed!"

Aedan fixed Alistair with an impassive look as he sheathed his sword. "Nor did he look like he planned on stopping anytime soon. I couldn't take the risk that he would find a weapon or alert the rest of the village to arm themselves and attack us."

"But –" Leliana began.

"He's right," Ayla cut her off. "It wasn't like in Redcliffe, where the soldiers and Teagan were possessed, and we could just render them unconscious and they'd be on our side when they woke up again. If we knocked this man out, he'd come to and organize an attack on us. It was far too risky to leave him."

"I suppose that you have a point," Leliana murmured. "I still do not like it." Alistair looked disturbed as well, looking back and forth between her and Aedan, but not saying anything further.

"Still, 'twas a remarkably foolish thing to do," Morrigan commented. "I do not see how he could have expected any other outcome when he attacked."

"He looked crazed; I doubt he was thinking straight," Aedan said as he moved towards the back room again. "Let's see this dead body he was hiding."

They followed Aedan through the open doorway into the back room, which was a long, empty space stacked with barrels, boxes, and various other supplies. Just like at Brother Genitivi's, there was a dead body lying in the corner, with no attempt to cover it or hide it. It did not smell quite as strong as the other one had, but Ayla hung back anyway, not wanting to test her stomach.

"This armor . . ." Alistair said slowly as he and Aedan leaned over the body, examining it. "This man was a knight from Redcliffe."

Aedan straightened up, frowning. "Looks like we weren't the only ones to follow clues here. But where is Brother Genitivi?"

"Another excellent question would be why they find it so difficult to dispose of a body," Zevran remarked. "It is not a difficult task, especially if you are in a village in the mountains."

"Well, it will be for us this time." Aedan glanced down at the body. "We'll have to leave this here. Let's take what supplies we can carry before we go up to the Chantry and talk to that Father Eirik. I think it's time we got some real answers about just what is going on here."

They went back out into the main room and began rooting through the barrels, finding all the health and lyrium potions that they could and storing them in their packs, as well as any herbs or ingredients that Morrigan could use to make more. They also took all the food that they could find. They were nearly finished up when Alistair suddenly looked towards the door. "Someone is casting magic out there."

Ayla looked towards the door, too, straining her ears to try to hear what was going on. She was able to pick up the faint sound of swords clashing as well. "There's definitely a battle going on out there; I can hear weapons."

Aedan stuffed more food in his pack before slinging it over his shoulder and heading for the door. "Wynne and Sten are still out there; let's go."

They all followed him out the door. As soon as they got outside, they spotted Wynne and Sten fighting off two of the villagers several yards away from the door. More villagers appeared from every direction as they left the shop, some armed for battle like the guard they'd seen at the entrance, but some not armed at all. The villagers streamed towards them to attack, similar crazed looks on their faces as the one the shopkeeper had worn.

"Well, I guess there will be no sneaking through the village unnoticed now," Aedan said with a shrug as he drew his sword. "It appears we have no choice but to fight back."

They all drew their weapons and launched into the fight. Ayla noticed that Alistair went towards the armed villagers first, and she quickly moved to take up a position at his back, having the feeling that he wouldn't defend himself properly against the other villagers. Leliana, too, though she was firing arrows with her usual accuracy, was only aiming at the armed villagers. Morrigan and Zevran, however, obviously had no such qualms, dispatching anyone who came near them, as did Aedan.

Ayla stayed at Alistair's back, and took down anyone who came near him, even the unarmed villagers, as their party fought its way through the crazed bunch. Even the ones without weapons seemed unnaturally strong, and Ayla noticed that something smelled off about their blood that she couldn't quite place as more of it spilled on the ground. However, their party was able to succeed in eliminating all of them without serious injuries.

Ayla ran her sword through the last villager that approached her, taking him down unmercifully in spite of his lack of weaponry or armor. As the villager fell and she sheathed her swords, she turned to find Alistair watching her. "Ayla . . ." he began, shaking his head as if he didn't know what to say.

She approached him, stopping in front of him with her hands on her hips. "I will not take the chance that any of them would come back later and harm us." _Harm you,_ came unbidden to her mind as her greatest concern, but she didn't say it. She only met his eyes, pleading with him silently to understand.

He searched her face, a faint look of – what? disapproval? disappointment? coloring his face before he nodded at last in acceptance. "If that's what you feel is necessary," he said at last.

"I do," she replied firmly. "They killed at least two people that we know of for no other reason than to cover up where this Genitivi fellow is. Who knows how many more people they have killed? And they were completely ready to kill us."

"Speaking of that, why did they suddenly attack us?" Aedan asked as he approached them, the rest of the party gathering around. "Did they somehow know we killed the shopkeeper without even seeing it?"

"I do not know what happened," Wynne responded. "Sten and I were heading up the hill to rejoin you all when villagers suddenly started attacking us without warning. We had no idea what prompted them to attack."

"There is something unusual about them," Zevran agreed. "They are stronger than the average opponent that we face."

"There is something off about the smell of their blood as well," Ayla offered, looking at Aedan. "I don't know what it is, but it's not normal."

"Hmm." Aedan studied the bodies lying around them before he shrugged. "We won't find anything out here. Let us go confront this Father Eirik, see what he knows. He must still be in the Chantry."

So saying, he headed up the path next to the shop, a steep, rocky path that wound its way up the hill between wooden arches set with torches. The others followed him up the steep climb. A group of about another half a dozen villagers, these ones all armed, raced to attack them as they neared the top, but were quickly taken care of.

When they reached the top, it levelled out onto a flat surface where a single building sat, a one story structure that was a combination of wood and stone, with a roof constructed of ornate woodwork that came to a peak at the top. It was surrounded by pine trees and backed by a mountain, and a light layer of snow lay on the ground around it. Ayla shuddered from the increasing cold as the wind swirled more snow around them. She could hear the sounds of many voices chanting in unison as they stopped just outside the building. "Sounds like the rest of the village is in here," she whispered to Aedan.

"One of them is a fairly powerful mage," Alistair added.

"All right, everyone be prepared for battle," Aedan murmured. "Morrigan, Wynne, try to shield us from spells if you can."

He pushed open the large wooden doors, strolling through first, everyone else close behind him, tense and readied for a fight. There were about a dozen villagers inside with their backs to them, half of them armed for battle, half not. An older man with greying hair and a beard, wielding a staff, obviously the mage Alistair had referred to, was preaching to them at the opposite end of the Chantry from where they entered, standing in front of a wooden table.

The walls and floor were made of stone, with a red carpet covering the middle of the floor. The walls around them as they made their way into the building were lined with tapestries, tables and chairs, and bookcases filled with books and scrolls. An open archway was on the left side of the room across from the priest. As they approached with Aedan in the lead, the villagers parted to let them by. The priest, who must have been Father Eirik, stopped his sermon, his eyes narrowed on Aedan as he stopped a few feet away, before saying, "Ah . . . welcome. I heard we had a visitor wandering about the village. I trust you've enjoyed your time in Haven so far?"

Aedan snorted, folding his arms as he stared the Father down. "We've found the dead bodies your villagers were so carelessly hiding, and been attacked on our way up here. We are well past pretending this village is normal."

Father Eirik glared at Aedan in turn. "Perhaps, but staying hidden means staying protected – and we must protect Haven and our charges at all costs. We don't owe you any explanations for our actions." He turned to the villagers, raising his voice. "We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven." He nodded at the villagers, before a burst of magic came from him.

Morrigan and Wynne had been prepared; the magic was halted by the defensive shield they'd thrown up around the party. Ayla and the others immediately moved into action, drawing their weapons even as the villagers moved forward to attack them, and Eirik went about casting another spell.

Alistair and Aedan focused their attacks on Eirik, keeping him busy, while Morrigan and Wynne cast supporting and attacking spells as needed, and Ayla and the others fought off the villagers. Some of the unarmed ones had fled, but the majority stayed behind, particularly the armed ones. Though they were, as Zevran had pointed out, unnaturally strong, they didn't have the experience in battle needed to make proper use of it. As such, it wasn't long before Ayla and the others were victorious over them.

Ayla turned back to check on Alistair. Aedan had just dodged out of the way of a lightning bolt, and while Eirik's attention was focused on him, Alistair ran the man through before following up with a finishing blow. With a pained grunt, the elderly mage dropped to the ground. "Well, I suppose that's that," Aedan said as he scanned the room for any further threats. "We didn't get any useful information out of him; let's check to see if we can find anything in here."

The party split up and began to check around the room and through the open doorway for any information on the Urn or Genitivi. While Ayla was checking one of the bookcases over on the right side of the room, she thought she could hear a cry of pain from behind the wall. She glanced at the stone wall, then across the room. The open archway on the left side of the room that led into another area was directly across from here. Did that mean there was a similar room hidden behind this wall?

"Zevran!" she called out to the elf, who was looting his way through the bodies and boxes in the room. "Can you come over here?"

"For you, my dear? Anything," Zevran replied, winking at her as he came over to her. Ayla bit back an amused smile as she noticed Alistair glaring a hole into the elf's back from across the room.

"What do you wish?" Zevran asked, stopping next to her.

"Do you think there might be a hidden door here?" She nodded at the wall next to them. "I thought I could hear something coming from behind this wall."

"Ah, a secret room? It is certainly possible. Allow me to have a look." The elf began running his hands over the wall as he pressed his ear to it, presumably searching for the way to open it. The rest of the party slowly gathered around them, watching curiously.

The elf suddenly smiled as he pressed down on a portion of the wall. "There it is! Well hidden, but I am too awesome by far." Ayla rolled her eyes at him, smiling as a section of the stone wall moved to the side with a grating sound, leaving an opening leading into another room.

"Good job, Zev." Aedan clapped him on the back as he slipped through the opening into the room, the rest of them following.

The room itself was fairly bare, decorated only with several more bookshelves and a desk against one wall. Lying on a rug on the floor in front of said desk was a middle-aged, balding man in brown rumpled clothing who was grunting with pain. He looked up as Aedan approached, reluctant acceptance mingling with fear in his eyes. "Who are you? They . . . they've sent you to finish it?"

"Brother Genitivi?" Aedan asked, kneeling next to the man. "I'm Aedan; we're here to help you."

The man smiled in relief, giving a brief nod acknowledging that he was the one they'd been searching for. "You don't know how glad I am to see someone who isn't from this village. I . . ." he cried out in sudden pain as he tried to move. He struggled to a sitting position with a groan, and Ayla noticed his right leg was bleeding and swollen. "The leg's not doing so well and . . . I can't feel my foot."

"Wynne, can you do anything?" Aedan looked over at her.

The mage moved forward to kneel next to Genitivi, studying his leg. "I will do what I can," she answered, "but the leg may not ever fully recover. It has been like this for too long for me to heal it properly."

Aedan nodded, gesturing for her to go ahead, and she got to work casting her spells and bandaging the leg with Leliana's help while Aedan turned to Genitivi. "Did you find the Urn?"

"Did I fall to my knees in front of it and weep?" Genitivi replied. "No. Did I discover its location? Yes." His lips tightened in pain as Wynne tied the bandage, before he continued, "Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is an old temple there, built to protect it. The door is always locked, but I know where the key is. Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door . . . I've seen what he does with it."

"Might that be this medallion?" Zevran held up a large, circular medallion on a chain. When everybody turned to look at him, he shrugged. "What? It looked valuable."

Genitivi squinted at the medallion before nodding. "Yes, that is your key. Take me to the mountainside, and I will show you."

Aedan looked down at the man, frowning. "Are you sure you can make the journey?"

"It is not that far and . . . will you let me lean on you?" Genitivi looked up at him hopefully. "For the Urn, any pain is worth enduring."

Aedan glanced at Wynne. "What do you think?"

"I have done all I can for him," she replied, straightening up. "I would prefer it if he remains behind and rests, but if he insists, he should be capable of coming along."

Aedan looked back at the man, whose eagerness was shining out of his eyes as he nodded. "Please allow me to come. This is my life's work."

"All right, let's go." Aedan put a supporting arm around Genitivi's shoulders, and they began to make their way out of the Chantry to go in search of the Urn.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was nearing nightfall by the time Genitivi had led them to the massive stone temple set on the mountain by Haven, and had managed to use Eirik's medallion on the inner carved wooden door to get it open. Aedan had decided to press on in spite of the darkness, figuring that they could find somewhere to set up camp for the night inside the temple. Genitivi stopped just inside the doors as they entered, looking around in awe.

"Oh, what I would give to have seen this hall in all its splendour, as it was meant to be . . ." he breathed, studying the massive entry room, with ornately carved pillars spread throughout the hall supporting its high roof. Though Ayla could see it was clearly beautiful and well-constructed, far beyond anything she'd ever seen before, the years had begun to wear away on it, and some of the stones had crumbled, and the hall itself was filled with snowdrifts and icicles. "Still, sweep away the ice and the snow, and traces of beauty remain," Genitivi continued, studying the room around them.

"Yes, well, we can't afford to linger," Aedan replied. "We need to find somewhere to set up camp for the night, and then press on in the morning."

"I'm sorry . . . what? I was a little distracted, I apologize." Genitivi hobbled over to the wall, running his hand over it. "These carvings were created just after Andraste's death, and they may reveal things about Her life that we do not yet know . . . I think I need more time to study these statues and carvings."

"We cannot wait for you." Aedan looked back at him, uncertainly. "We do not have any spare time to waste on this."

"I could not keep up with you with my injuries. I should be safe; I don't think there are any villagers here. Go, I will be all right." Genitivi waved his hand at Aedan when he still hesitated. "Perhaps my destiny was only to lead you to the Urn."

"I will leave Striker here with you, just in case," Aedan decided. He gestured Striker over to Genitivi's side, ordering the dog to stay and guard the man until they came back. Striker whined, but plopped down next to Genitivi anyway. Aedan looked up at the man. "Thank you. You've been a great help."

"Bah, it's my job," Genitivi replied, waving off the praise. "Just be careful, that's all I ask. The temple is . . . perilous. I'll be right here if you need me."

"What did he mean by perilous?" Ayla asked in an undertone as they all followed Aedan deeper into the temple, crunching over the snowdrifts.

"Likely the place is full of traps to discourage looters," Zevran answered cheerfully. "Old ruins like these are full of such things. Do not worry, my dear. I have not yet met a trap that I could not spring."

"Oh, please, Zevran, you are far too humble for your own good," Alistair said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and making Ayla laugh. She was glad that Alistair did not seem to be overly upset with her over the villagers; she'd been afraid he would distance himself, but he'd been acting normal since then, for which she was grateful.

Leliana laughed. "Indeed, you will overwhelm us with your humbleness." Zevran bowed and winked at her as she continued, "But between the two of us, I am sure we should be able to disarm any traps before they harm anyone."

"Good," Aedan called back from the head of the group. "You two keep an eye out for traps while we search the ruins. The rest of you, keep an eye out for more villagers. I don't think we've seen the last of them."

True to his prediction, they had only just reached a large set of stairs at the opposite end of the hall from the door, just past a circular dais where a fire was burning using large pieces of wood, when several more villagers came running down the stairs to attack them. Unlike in the village itself, all of these people were armed, and there were even a couple of mages with them, but the crazed look in their eyes was the same.

The party moved to intercept them, and were able to defeat them after a few minutes with only minor injuries that were quickly healed by Morrigan and Wynne. They went the rest of the way up the stairs to a set of double doors at the top, but the doors were locked. "We'll have to search the rooms that lead off the hall," Aedan said, after Zevran and Leliana had unsuccessfully attempted to pick the locks. "See if we can find a key."

The next few hours the party members spent searching the several rooms that branched off from the main hall, finding a few more groups of villagers that they had to dispatch, as well as some treasure they were able to take with them. They found the key to the main hall, as well as a set of rooms set up with cots to sleep on, indicating that these villagers obviously lived or at least frequently stayed in the ruins. Aedan directed them to stay there for the night, deciding that they could move on through the locked door in the morning.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day was more of the same; after they unlocked the door and moved into the next section of ruins, they were attacked by more of the villagers. This pattern continued as they searched their way deeper into the ruins. The further they went in, the more groups of villagers they found that attacked them immediately and without warning. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured during any of the fights, and they were able to find quite a bit of supplies to help them keep going also.

Finally, they came upon a room with four incredibly tall statues in the center of it. A hole had been busted through the wall on the left side, and the hole in question led into an intricate series of caverns in the mountainside. As it was the only way to go, they all crawled through the hole and continued on through the tunnel carved in the rocks.

They hadn't gone far along the tunnel when they were attacked by a group of baby dragons. The dragons were obviously very young, being only about half the size of Striker, but their teeth and claws were still dangerously sharp.

"Why are there baby dragons in here?" Alistair exclaimed, after they'd finished off the last of them.

Aedan shook his head. "I have no idea. The more we find out about this place, the stranger it gets. There's nothing to do but keep going, though."

As they went further into the tunnels, it became apparent to Ayla that the villagers were responsible for the presence of the dragons. They came across more of the villagers fighting together with the baby dragons, and hunks of raw meat that they'd obviously been using to feed them. Down one tunnel, they found a room with cages, where they were attacked by two older dragons, about the size of the one they'd come across in the Brecilian Forest. This fight was much more difficult, there being two of them, but they were able to make it through with the combined efforts of the entire party.

It was when they came across a room at the end of another tunnel that it became obvious that the villagers were deliberately raising the dragons. The room was a hatchery, with facilities set up specifically for dragon eggs. They fought a particularly tough battle in this room against a small dragon, a powerful mage, and a group of stealthy assassins.

"That was close," Ayla panted after they were finished, leaning against the wall holding her wounded arm until Wynne or Morrigan could get to her. She'd only narrowly avoided being completely skewered by the assassin thanks to her sense of smell. As stealthy as they were, they couldn't mask their scent.

Alistair came over to her, studying her with a concerned look. "Are you all right?" He appeared to be mostly unharmed, though his plate armor was covered with scorch marks and a small amount of blood dribbled down his leg from between his greaves.

"I'll live," she answered, smiling up at him. "Just a minor wound."

"Good." He cupped her face in his hand, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her lips before pulling back slightly. She sighed. It had been a few days now since they'd had any private time alone, and she was on edge now from how badly she wanted him. Though they had continued to sleep in each other's arms whenever they could, they had been too nearby the others to attempt anything further, no matter how tempted they were, and had not had any spare time otherwise. She missed his touch more than she wanted to admit.

"Don't tease me like that," she whispered, letting go of her wounded arm to tug on the collar of his plate armor to bring him back down for a more thorough kiss.

"Maker, Ayla," he muttered when they pulled apart again, bracing himself on the wall behind her. "That's only going to make it worse."

"I know," she sighed. The longer kiss had only stoked the fires in her blood further, but she couldn't seem to help herself with him. She didn't want a day to go by without his touch anymore, and she didn't quite understand why that was - or maybe she didn't want to understand.

"Move out of the way, you great idiot." Morrigan shoved Alistair aside, taking Ayla's injured arm in her hands to cast a healing spell.

"Well, hello to you too, Morrigan," Alistair replied bitingly.

Morrigan glared daggers at him, though her healing spell continued uninterrupted. "Should I have let you remain in my way while she bled out, you oaf?"

"Well, most normal people would have just _asked_ –"

"Enough, you two," Aedan interrupted with a sigh as he approached them. Ayla was trying her hardest not to laugh, since she couldn't help but find it amusing when the two squabbled like that. "Any guesses as to why there's a dragon hatchery here, Morrigan?"

Morrigan finished off her healing spell, having completely closed the wound on Ayla's arm, before she turned to Aedan. "I suspect those villagers are a dragon cult. I have read about such things before. They worship, raise and care for the dragons. In exchange, the dragons will fight for them, and they can also use the blood of the dragons to enhance their abilities. That is likely why these villagers are stronger than one would expect."

"A dragon cult. Terrific," Aedan muttered, shaking his head. "What is a dragon cult doing guarding Andraste's ashes?"

Morrigan shrugged. "That I cannot say."

"I believe now would be a good time to stop for another rest," Wynne remarked, as she approached Alistair to heal the wound on his leg. "We do not know how much further these tunnels go, and it must be nearly nightfall again, though it is hard to tell in here."

Aedan nodded. "That's probably for the best. We'll stay in this room; it should be fairly easily defensible if we set up watches. We'll continue on in the morning."

So they stopped again to eat and rest before continuing on through the tunnels again in the morning. They ran across a few more of the small dragons and cultists before the tunnel finally opened up into a large cavern, with a roof that stretched high overhead. Ayla could see, on the far right of the cavern from where they had entered, sunlight streaming in through a gap in the wall. She breathed a sigh of relief; she wasn't sure how much longer she could have taken being stuck in these mountains. The endless tunnels and oppressing rocks were starting to make her edgy.

However, there was obviously at least one more obstacle before they could leave the mountain tunnels. A large, dark-haired man in finely wrought plate armor waited in the middle of the cavern, arms crossed as he glared at them fiercely. He was flanked by two more armed warriors and two mages. No one had made a move to attack just yet, so Aedan led them forward.

"Stop! You will go no further!" the dark-haired man shouted imperiously when they were only a few feet away.

Aedan halted, the rest of them stopping behind him. He stood at the ready, though he had not yet drawn his sword, watching the man warily. "Who are you?"

"You do not have the right to demand my name. You have defiled our temple!" the man bellowed. "You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young. No more. You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this. Why have you come here?"

"Slaughtered their young?" Alistair whispered to Ayla. "What in the Maker's name is he talking about? We didn't kill any children."

"I think he's probably talking about the dragon babies," Ayla whispered back. It was the only thing she could think of, anyway. Though they had killed unarmed people, they had all been adults.

"Oh," Alistair wrinkled his nose, looking disturbed.

"We have come for the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Aedan said, ignoring their whispered conversation behind him.

"You did this all for an ancient relic?" the man scoffed. "Know this, stranger … The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine." He spread his arms, looking up as though he could see the radiance above him. "Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now. What hope do you have?"

Aedan frowned, looking back at everyone in confusion; they could only shrug in response. Leliana looked appalled at the man's statement, Ayla noticed. Aedan turned back to the man, asking, "And what has happened to the ashes?"

"They are still within this temple, but why do we need ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all Her glory?" the man retorted dismissively.

Aedan studied the man for a moment longer before shaking his head. "You're mad. Andraste is dead. She died centuries ago. The ashes are all that is left."

"You know nothing!" the man roared, anger blazing in his eyes. "Andraste revealed Herself to us! We are Her Chosen!" He turned to the men behind him. "To arms, my brethren! Andraste will grant us victory!"

The dark-haired man drew a huge battleaxe, even as the four behind him readied for battle, and swung it at Aedan. Aedan dodged backwards, pulling out his greatsword. "Get the mages first!" He met the axe's second blow with his sword. "I'll handle him!"

"Stay back here!" Alistair shouted at Wynne and Morrigan. "I don't want you in range when I smite them!"

The two women nodded, though Morrigan had a scowl on her face, and Alistair darted forward towards the mages, Ayla sticking close on his heels. Sten and Zevran were engaging the two armed warriors, while Leliana alternated between firing arrows at them and at the two mages, trying to keep them distracted until Ayla and Alistair could reach them.

Between her, Alistair, and Leliana's arrows, they managed to cut down the mages before they had done much harm, though Ayla had to dive out of the way a couple of times. Alistair had somehow neutralized a bolt that had nearly hit him square in the chest, but he appeared no worse for the wear when the fight was done.

They turned back to see Aedan still fighting with the leader, bleeding from half a dozen places. The dark-haired man appeared to be faster and stronger than any of the cultists they'd faced so far. Just as they turned, Sten came up behind the man while he was distracted with Aedan, and swung his greatsword, separating the man's head from his shoulders. Zevran had just finished off the warrior he was facing, leaving all their opponents defeated.

"What do you suppose he was talking about when he said Andraste had risen?" Alistair asked as they reached Aedan, who was now being healed by Wynne. The others had all gathered nearby as well.

Aedan shrugged, brow wrinkling in pain as Wynne's magic passed over him. "The man was obviously as crazy as the rest of those cultists. He must be imagining things."

"Indeed," Leliana sniffed. "It is blasphemy! Andraste is at the Maker's side, where she belongs."

"Well, at least we know the ashes are still here." Aedan turned to Wynne as she finished, thanking her. "He said they were within the temple. There must be another temple out on the mountain, through there." He nodded at the patch of sunlight across the cavern. "Let's get this over with."

They all trooped out of the cavern following Aedan. The open doorway came out onto a half-collapsed stone bridge that led down onto the mountaintop. Before they could go any further down the bridge, Ayla felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as panic shot through her. She jumped backwards, flattening herself against the mountain, just as a massive dragon swooped by overhead, far larger than any of the ones they'd faced inside.

The rest of the party, seeing the dragon, immediately ducked down or flattened themselves against the mountain, too, trying to hide. The dragon let out an earth-shaking roar before it flew down to land on a cliff to the left of the path where the bridge led. It settled itself down, curling up like a big cat, as the party watched with baited breath.

When the dragon made no immediate move to attack, they slowly stood up, one-by-one, studying the path ahead. Directly across from the bridge they were on was a temple made of white stone, built into the mountainside across the way. But in order to get there, they would have to walk directly past the cliff the dragon was on, and there was no shelter between here and there. There was a ruin of a white tower off to the right, but it was too far away to be of any use.

"A high dragon, between us and the Urn," Aedan sighed. "Just what we needed."

"A high dragon is not a joke," Alistair said, his face pale with tension as he studied the dragon. "We'd better be careful . . . real careful."

"No kidding." Ayla shivered, rubbing her arms, trying to get rid of the goosebumps that had sprung up all over her body. Her instincts were screaming at her to turn tail and run in the other direction. Seeing her distress, Alistair wrapped a steadying arm around her, and she leaned against his side, surprised at how his mere touch took the edge off her panic. Still, she could hardly believe her eyes; that was a true dragon up there, the likes of which Fallor had not seen in centuries. Not since King Escal had been the one and only shifter to change form into a dragon, and had commanded dragons to help him clear Fallor of the demons that had tried to take it over. How in the name of the Goddess had he been able to control something like that?

"Perhaps that dragon is what the cultists believe is Andraste reborn," Morrigan said thoughtfully. "It would make sense as to why they worship dragons."

"I suppose." Aedan stared at the dragon for another moment. "Will it just let us go by?"

"I doubt it," Ayla shook her head, trying to suppress the remnants of her panic. "We'll be walking right through its territory, and we're covered in the blood of its young still. It will likely attack us as soon as we get down there."

Aedan blew out a breath, pushing a hand through his hair before shrugging fatalistically. "I suppose we have no choice. At least it will be good practice for the archdemon." He turned and looked at Sten. "Still think I'm taking the easy way out, Sten?"

The qunari gazed down at him impassively. "That remains to be seen."

"Well, practice is a good way to look at," Zevran remarked. "How many points is a high dragon worth, if I land the finishing blow?" He winked at Ayla.

She couldn't help but chuckle, in spite of the panic that would not completely go away. "If you land the finishing blow, Zev, I will admit that you are as awesome as you say." Alistair snorted next to her, rubbing his hand over her arm.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Zevran grinned. "Let's go!"

"Well, if we do end up fighting it," Aedan said, turning back to face them, "try to aim for the eyes, like we did with the pride demon, Leliana. Wynne and Morrigan, stay back and heal as much as possible and try to shield us. The rest of us will keep on the move; try to wound the legs or put holes in the wings if you can, and get at the neck if possible. Let's see what happens."

Everyone nodded in agreement with his plan, and they began to cautiously make their way down the bridge, spells, arrows, and weapons at the ready. The dragon didn't make any moves as they reached the bottom of the bridge, and as they carefully began to make their way across the rocks, trying not to run as that would only draw attention, Ayla began to hope she'd been wrong.

But when they were halfway across, she knew she hadn't been when she heard the sound of wings beating. The dragon landed with a crash in front of them, blocking their way to the temple. "Move!" Aedan yelled, diving out of the way of the dragon's mouth as it snaked down to try to grab him. The party scattered around him.

Ayla, swords drawn, raced around behind the dragon, trying to flank it as Leliana fired arrows. As Aedan instructed, everybody was constantly on the move, trying to cut at its legs or wings and stay out of reach of its claws and teeth. Sten opened up a gash along one of the dragon's back legs seconds before it kicked out, launching him backwards.

Ayla just barely got a tear into its wing on one side at the same time as Alistair did on the other, before the dragon roared and leapt into the air. The wind from its wings flattened most of them to the ground, and Leliana and the two mages barely got out of the way of its fiery breath. The dragon only flew a few feet before it wobbled and had to land on the ground again, the tears in its wings obviously affecting its flying. Scrambling to their feet, everyone renewed their attack.

Ayla had just gotten another good blow into one of its back legs, stabbing in from both sides with her swords, when its tail slammed into her, sending her flying. She landed with bruising impact on the rocky ground, stunned, barely able to breathe, much less move. So she could only watch as the dragon's head whipped toward her and its mouth descended down, its intentions clear, but she knew she would never be able to move out of the way in time. This was it, then.

When the dragon's head was only a few feet away, strong arms suddenly picked her up and flung her to the side. She landed on the ground again, just in time to see the dragon's mouth close over Alistair. He let out a cry of pain that ended in a gurgle as the teeth crunched fully through his armor, and blood bloomed out of the sides of the dragon's mouth.

Ayla's world shattered in a maelstrom of crippling terror and grief as she screamed in abject denial, rocketing to her feet. The dragon still held Alistair in its mouth, blood pooling on the ground below, and she couldn't breathe for the fear and crushing sadness that were freezing her heart. Pure, blood-red rage began to override everything, though, when she met the dragon's yellow eye. She would make that dragon drop her mate if it was the last thing she ever did. That was the last coherent thought that went through her mind. There was nothing after that but blood, claws, teeth, rage, and darkness.


	26. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan leads the party through the remainder of the battle with the dragon, and deals with the aftermath. Ayla wakes up afterwards, and has to deal with the consequences of what happened.

Chapter 26: Promise Me

Aedan had just opened up a new hole in the dragon's right wing when he heard the scream. It was a wrenching scream so full of despair that it took him a few seconds to realize it was Ayla screaming as he dashed around the side of the dragon towards its head. It took him a few more seconds to realize what would have made her scream like that. _Something must have happened to Alistair._

As he rounded the front of the dragon, he was just in time to see Ayla as the panther launch herself at the dragon's head. With an angry snarl, she landed on the head, hooking in with her claws, and swiping one paw viciously across the dragon's right eye, causing blood to spurt out and the dragon to rear its head back with a roar, dropping what was in its mouth. It was, as Aedan had feared, a blood-covered Alistair. "Sten! Wynne!" he bellowed, swiping at the dragon's front leg to keep it away from Alistair as the enraged dragon stumbled around, trying to dislodge the panther from its head. "Get over here!"

Sten was by his side in a few seconds. "You called, Warden?" he asked tonelessly.

"Get him away from the dragon, now!" Aedan nodded at Alistair's still unmoving body, blocking another blow from the dragon's leg. He was praying that Alistair was still alive, not having had a chance to check yet, but with that amount of blood, he couldn't be sure. He was not, however, about to be the last Warden in all of Ferelden if he could help it. "Wynne needs to start healing him right away!"

Sten cast a doubtful glance at Alistair's ruined armor and all the blood, but after Aedan pierced him with a fierce glare, he promptly dragged him far away from the dragon, over to an outcropping of rock. Wynne had joined him, obviously guessing without being told what Aedan had called her for. When he saw the blue glow that meant she'd begun healing, he breathed out a sigh of relief. For the moment, Alistair was still alive, or Wynne wouldn't have bothered.

In the meantime, the panther had managed to clamp her jaws down on the dragon's neck just behind its head, somehow keeping a firm grip in spite of the dragon's thrashing. She was also swiping continuously and furiously with her claws any part of the dragon that could be reached from her current vantage point, from what Aedan could see. He'd never seen her attack quite so fiercely or with such strength; he wondered if she'd lost control.

At the moment, however, he didn't care. The dragon was thoroughly distracted by her attack, no longer seeming to care about the arrows or blades directed its way by the other party members. It only wanted the panther off its neck, and it was no longer counter-attacking, merely thrashing and stumbling around. It was also blind in its right eye now, said eye being obscured by blood and claw marks. If she could continue to keep it busy, they just might have a chance at winning this.

"Keep attacking!" he shouted, waving Sten back over and opening up a gash along the dragon's right front leg. The dragon tried to kick at him, but he was able to dodge out of the way in time. Sten joined him in attacking the front legs and even trying to slip between the front legs to get at the chest.

Meanwhile, Leliana was still firing arrows, trying to score a hit on the dragon's left eye, as well as tear more holes in the wings. Morrigan was alternating between casting minor support spells and ice attacks on the dragon, trying to counteract the flames it was occasionally breathing out in its fury. Zevran had somehow managed to crawl his way up onto the dragon's back, stabbing his swords in to keep his balance as the dragon continued to thrash around.

It seemed to be getting weaker. The thrashing was less violent, and even the attempts at counter-attacks were fewer and farther between. It made sense, considering the panther's jaws had remained steadily locked in place behind the dragon's head, and the neck was nothing but shredded scales and blood by now, not to mention all the other places the dragon was bleeding from. Finally, Zevran reached the base of the dragon's neck, and drew both his swords across the neck, opening up a fountain of blood.

Sten took the opportunity to plunge his greatsword directly into the dragon's chest, as deep as he could make it go, and the dragon finally collapsed to the ground with a gurgling roar, its legs going out from underneath it. The panther leaped clear as the dragon's head was the last thing to connect with the ground, and Zevran also jumped aside, rolling as he hit the ground before he regained his feet.

Aedan waited a moment, sword at the ready, as he eyed the dragon, but it appeared that they had truly defeated it; there was no sign of movement from the dragon's body now as it breathed its last, blood pooling on the ground around it. He sheathed his sword and did a quick scan. No one else appeared badly hurt, and Wynne was still casting on Alistair. He took a deep breath, ordering himself to remain calm and keep it together. He couldn't let the leadership mask slip, especially not in front of Sten so soon after their fight. "Morrigan, can you go help Wynne? Sten, Leliana, and Zevran, have a look around and see if you can find more potions or herbs nearby. Or anything else that we can use."

Everyone nodded, and quickly moved to do as he'd said, to his relief. Morrigan went to Wynne's side and began casting, while the others began to explore the nearby area. He suddenly realized he hadn't seen Ayla since she'd leaped clear of the dragon, and began to look around for her. When he found her, he saw that she still hadn't changed back. She was where she'd landed after the dragon fell, pacing back and forth with her tail twitching restlessly. He'd never seen her not change back right away – had she truly lost control, then?

He began to edge over to her, wondering if he could calm her down by explaining that Alistair was still alive. "Do not go over to her!" Morrigan shouted from behind him. He turned to look; she'd glanced over from her spot beside Alistair and seen him approaching her. "'Tis too dangerous right now!"

He hesitated, but turned back and kept edging slowly towards her, trying to keep his movements slow and relaxed so as not to alarm her. He didn't want to leave her like that, and surely if he could explain things to her, she would be able to regain control. She'd spotted him by now, and the pacing had stopped; she was crouching low, facing him, tail still twitching. As he got closer, her ears began to flatten back.

"Ayla," he started in a low, soothing tone, "he's still alive, okay? Alistair is still alive. Just calm down, please –"

That was when she lunged, and though he reared back, her claws still raked down the front of his torso, rending his armor open. Fortunately, his armor was strong enough that though she opened up his skin beneath, it wasn't deep enough to cause any lasting damage.

He had fallen to the ground trying to dodge, and was scrambling backwards in shock and reaching for his sword, not knowing what else to do, when the panther suddenly collapsed at his feet. He looked behind him to see Morrigan stalking towards him, fury etched in every line of her beautiful face.

"Fool!" she screeched as she approached him, hands planted on her hips. "I _told_ you not to do it, did I not? She was not in control of herself at all! You are lucky she did not kill you!"

"I –" he looked back at Ayla, only to notice that she was now shifting back, the change wavering through her body as it returned to her normal state, though she remained laying unmoving on the ground. "I'm sorry." He wanted to say he was sorry for worrying her, but he knew what she'd say to _that_ , so he didn't bother elaborating. "I - thought I might be able to get through to her. What happened?"

"I cast a sleep spell on her," Morrigan snapped, still glaring down at him. "It was the only thing I could think of to try to save your hide without killing her."

"Well, it looks like it worked." He managed to scramble to his feet, looking down at the new holes in his armor, through which a small amount of blood trickled. Morrigan reached out with one hand as if to heal the wounds, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "No, save it for Alistair." He nodded to where Wynne was still working on his fellow Warden. "Is he –" he couldn't quite finish the sentence.

"Going to make it?" Morrigan finished quietly. "I cannot say. He is managing to stay alive for now, but his wounds are quite serious. Had he not been a Grey Warden, I do not believe he would have lived this long."

"Please, Morrigan, do everything you can." He knew that there was no love lost between the two, but he also knew his lovely witch well enough to know she would overlook that for his sake and for Ayla's. He did not want to imagine what it would be like to truly be the only Warden left in all of Ferelden. The only thing that had made this whole endeavour bearable so far was the support and advice he'd gotten on his decisions from Alistair and Ayla. And he had a suspicion that if he lost Alistair, he would lose Ayla too, one way or another.

She looked down at Ayla for a moment, then back up at him, and nodded. "If that is your wish, I shall do as you ask. Whatever else that meddlesome old woman may be, she is an exceptional healer." This was said grudgingly, before she went on, "Between the two of us, we may be able to save him."

"Thank you." He smiled gratefully at her before pulling her to him, giving her a quick kiss before letting her go, and she nodded briefly at him before going back over to Alistair. As he watched her go, he prayed that she was right. He wasn't ready to lose anybody else.

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When Ayla awoke, her first thought was how incredibly sore she was. She felt as though she'd been shifted for an entire day, running herself completely ragged until she'd dropped from exhaustion. Every inch of her body ached and throbbed with pain. Her next thought was that she couldn't remember what exactly had happened to make her this sore.

She managed to struggle into a sitting position, gritting her teeth against the cry of pain that wanted to emerge. She felt incredibly weak also, like she had no strength currently left in her body. It appeared to be midday by the position of the sun, which was shining brightly from a cloudless blue sky, and it was for once decently warm in the mountains, for which she was grateful. She didn't think she could have taken the cold on top of her aching muscles.

"Ayla, you are awake! How are you feeling?" Leliana asked to her right, sounding vastly relieved.

Ayla turned her head to see the bard sitting next to her, smiling. "I'll live," she answered; the soreness wasn't worth bothering anyone over. "What happened, Leliana? I don't remember exactly why I apparently passed out."

"Oh." Leliana suddenly looked slightly nervous. "You don't remember? We were fighting the high dragon, and Alistair –"

_Alistair! Oh, Goddess!_ It suddenly came crashing back to Ayla with the impact of hitting a wall, drowning out whatever Leliana was saying. She had lost him, and worse yet, it had happened because he'd been protecting _her_. He hadn't even given her the chance to die first. It was just as she'd feared; death would have been less painful than the sensation she was experiencing now. It wasn't like her heart was broken; it was like it just wasn't _there_ anymore, like it had been ripped from her chest, and she couldn't breathe because of it. She was hyperventilating, and she could feel the change wanting to shimmer through her, in spite of the screaming protest of her muscles.

"Ayla, stop!" Leliana cried, the strident panic in her voice finally reaching Ayla's ears. "He's alive! Alistair is alive!"

"Don't lie to me just to get me to calm down, Leliana," Ayla growled, although in truth, part of her wanted to believe what the bard was saying so badly that she had already started to breathe a little easier.

"I am not!" the bard cried. "I swear to you in the name of the Maker and Andraste Herself! He is alive and he is going to be okay!"

Ayla studied Leliana closely, but the bard's face was open and sincere. She also knew that Leliana took her beliefs very seriously, and she would not swear on the Maker's name if she was lying. But – "There was so much blood. How -?" Ayla whispered, wanting so badly to believe and yet terrified of having her hope crushed all over again.

"There was," Leliana agreed softly, laying a hand gently on Ayla's shoulder. "But Wynne and Morrigan were able to heal him, using all the magic and lyrium potions they had, including some that we'd found. They said also that Wardens seem to heal faster than a normal person would, or he likely would not have survived. His plate armor also helped protect him somewhat, they believe. Armor like ours," the bard indicated the leather armor she was still wearing, "would obviously have not been any help against a dragon's teeth."

"He's alive." She sagged in relief, trying to blink back the tears that wanted to threaten. She'd been so sure in that horrible moment that he had traded his life for hers, that she would never see him again. The relief that she felt now was indescribable. "I - I need to see him."

"He still hasn't woken up yet," Leliana advised, though she was already moving to help Ayla get up. "Morrigan and Wynne say that he is out of danger now, but he does still need time to recover."

"That's all right," Ayla replied softly, taking Leliana's arm as she got to her feet. Ordinarily she would not have, but right at the moment, her body was so sore and weak she suspected she wouldn't be able to walk without assistance anyway. "I'll just stay with him until he does. What happened after the dragon got him? I . . . don't remember." She knew why that must be, of course. She'd done the one thing she never wanted to do; completely lost control of her shifting. She needed to know just what she'd done while she was out of it.

"Well," Leliana began as she supported Ayla while they began to walk across the rocky ground from the pallet Ayla had been laying on, "you changed into your panther form and attacked the dragon. When you scratched out its eye, it dropped Alistair, and Aedan had Sten get him out of there and also had Wynne start working on him. You stayed attacking the dragon; you had a hold around its neck. You were distracting it enough that we were able to finish it off without anyone else getting hurt. Then . . ." she hesitated, glancing over at Ayla uncertainly.

"Go on." Ayla didn't really want to hear what happened next, but judging by the way Leliana was looking at her, this was the part she really needed to know about.

"You hadn't changed back, so Aedan went over to talk to you, to try to explain that Alistair was still alive. But you weren't in control of yourself, so you . . . attacked him." Leliana was looking down at the ground now, carefully not meeting her eyes.

"I attacked Aedan?!" Ayla exclaimed. It was worse than she'd thought! This was exactly the reason why everyone feared shifters as dangerous, and she'd gone ahead and done it! "Is he okay?!"

"I'm just fine," Aedan said mildly, stepping in front of them. Though he said that, Ayla's attention was immediately drawn to the rents down the front of his armor, which had broken completely through. She winced.

"Aedan, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I . . . I'll understand if you can't trust me anymore." She couldn't meet his eyes, feeling guilty and far too ashamed to see what he must think of her now. "Or if you want me to leave now . . ."

"Ayla, stop. Look at me." She looked up reluctantly, afraid of the censure she would see there, but was surprised to see nothing but understanding in his grey eyes. "It's not your fault. Morrigan told me not to go near you when you were like that and I didn't listen to her. I know that wasn't you."

"But it _was_ me," she snapped, feeling even more guilty that he was being so understanding when she'd attacked him. "I _am_ the panther, and the panther is me. And I attacked you, I could have _killed_ you!"

"But you didn't," Aedan said patiently. "In fact, you barely even broke through my armor. Yes, it was _technically_ you, but you weren't in control. I know you didn't mean to do it, and I don't want you to blame yourself." He hesitated, looking slightly red-faced and embarrassed before he went on, "I don't want you to leave, either. I can't do this without you, or Alistair, or anybody else. I just . . . I don't want to lose any of you."

He looked so sincere that Ayla couldn't help but believe him, as guilty as she felt. She nodded, relieved that he was being so understanding. "I wish I could say that it wouldn't happen again, but . . . I can't guarantee that." She hesitated, and when he nodded in acceptance of her statement, went on, "If you have to attack me back, though, you can go ahead. Do whatever you need to do. I won't blame you for it. How _did_ you stop me before it got out of hand?"

He smiled. "Morrigan used a sleep spell on you that worked just fine, so if it ever does happen again, I think we've got it handled without injuring you."

A sleep spell? That had never really occurred to Ayla, as she didn't know if the mages in her world even possessed such a spell, but she could see how that would be the easiest way to solve the problem. "That is - good to hear. And thank you – for getting Alistair out of there, and making sure he was healed when I couldn't." She owed him more than she could ever say for that.

"I wouldn't have done anything else," he replied, looking uncomfortable. "Like I said, I don't want to lose any of you. I won't interrupt you any longer." He gestured behind him, to the other side of the ruined white tower they had obviously taken shelter in. "Go wait with him, and let me know when he wakes up so I can yell at him, all right?"

She nodded, smiling as Aedan moved away, before she and Leliana continued over to where Alistair lay. "Leliana, do you still trust me?" she asked carefully as they went.

Leliana appeared to consider the question a moment before nodding. "I do," she answered. "As Aedan said, I know that had you been in control, you would never have done something like that. We have all done things we are not proud of," the bard smiled a little ruefully before continuing, "You, at least, did not make the conscious choice to attack him."

"No, I suppose not." But she _had_ made other conscious choices to do things that the others might not approve of if they knew of them. Ones that she wouldn't even do differently – and maybe that made her a worse person than accidentally attacking Aedan did. But there was no reason they ever had to find out about that, she decided.

They had reached the other side of the tower by now, where Alistair lay sleeping on a pallet, far away from the others, presumably to allow him to rest in peace and quiet while everyone talked and went about their business. Leliana helped Ayla lower down into a sitting position next to him. She couldn't help the wince that escaped her as her sore muscles protested their use; Leliana frowned, obviously noticing. "You do not appear to be wounded, so what is causing you such pain?"

"It's from the uncontrolled shift," Ayla answered, having come to this conclusion after learning what had happened. "I had heard before that they use more power than a regular shift, and even controlled shifts can be exhausting and cause soreness if over-used. So this is just very sore muscles and exhaustion. I just need some rest to recover from it and I'll be fine."

"Oh," Leliana nodded in understanding. "I will bring you some food as well. I am sure that will help. Here." She took her water skin out from her pouch and handed it to Ayla as well. "I will be back with the food."

Ayla took the water skin gratefully, suddenly realizing that she _was_ very thirsty. "Thank you, Leliana. For . . . everything."

The bard smiled warmly back at her. "It is no problem. We are friends, yes?" She moved away, leaving Ayla alone with Alistair.

She took a moment to study him, feeling the overwhelming relief that yes, he was still breathing, and she could still hear that steady heartbeat that had soothed her so many times before. What she could see of his torso that wasn't covered in a blanket was bare and wrapped in bandages, and he wasn't wearing his armor, probably because it was so damaged as to no longer be useful. But other than that, and the slight paleness of his face, he looked as though he were merely peacefully sleeping. She reached out and took his hand in hers, feeling the warmth of it that steadied her as nothing else had since she woke up.

She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. It had taken nearly losing him to realize that what she hadn't wanted to happen, what she'd been trying to avoid, had happened anyway. She'd fallen in love with Alistair. He was the life-mate that she hadn't been looking for, but she had found him anyway, and now she didn't know what she would do without him. Which was exactly why she hadn't wanted to fall in love with him in the first place, and likely why it had taken her so long to realize it. Because maybe if she didn't ever admit it, she could pretend it wasn't true, or wouldn't hurt as much.

Obviously, that hadn't worked out well, she thought wryly. The moments she'd thought he was dead had been some of the worst that she'd ever experienced in her life, and that had even been without knowing how she felt. Now that she knew he was alive, she could breathe again, but she would still feel a lot better when he actually woke up. She was torn between wanting to kiss him, to apologize to him, and wanting to yell at him as Aedan had said. Or maybe she should just do all three.

She ran over what she wanted to do or to say to him when he woke up many times while she was waiting. Leliana came back as promised with bread, cheese, and dried meat for her to eat before leaving her alone again to wait.

She was so caught up in trying to think of what she'd do that she didn't actually notice the moment when he opened his eyes. It wasn't until he spoke that she realized he'd finally awakened. "Ayla, I'm glad to see you're all right."

Her head snapped up to look at him. Those hazel eyes were open and focused on her, and he was smiling, though he looked pale and weary still. She nodded in response, suddenly unsure if she could trust her voice, but she couldn't stop herself from finally saying, "Yes, I am, thanks to you almost getting yourself killed." She'd really meant to snap it angrily at him, but her voice wobbled at the end, and she scowled, annoyed with herself.

He struggled to sit up, and she let go of his hand as she moved to help him, trying to ignore the soreness of her own muscles as he finally got into a sitting position, looking a little more pale now. He reached out to gently touch her face. "I'm sorry I worried you. But I wasn't about to let anything happen to you."

"So it was all right with you if you died instead?" she demanded, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening again.

"Well, I was really hoping I wouldn't die." He smiled cheekily at her, but she just glared back at him. She was _not_ in the mood right now for jokes. He sighed, pulling his hand back and continuing on, "But yes, I would have been fine with that. Honestly, I didn't even have to think about it – I just wanted to keep you safe."

"And _I_ was just supposed to be fine with it if the man I loved died trying to save me?!" She clapped a hand over her mouth as she suddenly realized what she'd unintentionally blurted out, staring at Alistair with wide eyes. She'd only just realized how she felt herself; she hadn't meant to tell him, not until she'd had more time to plan out how exactly she wanted to say it.

He was staring at her in shock and disbelief, though she noticed hope and joy starting to spread in his expression too. The disbelief she didn't quite understand. Hadn't he wanted her to fall in love with him? Why was he surprised that she did? "You – you really do love me?" he asked at last, that beautiful smile spreading slowly over his face.

Well, it was too late to say it in a better way now. "Yes, I do," she muttered, feeling a flush spread across her face. "That's why – you have to promise me you won't ever do that again, okay? Promise me you won't die on me, because I know now – I won't be able to take it." And to her utter horror, the tears she'd been trying to hold back began to slip down her face without her say-so. She tried to swipe them away, but Alistair had already seen.

He pulled her into his arms, and she went, burying her face against his bandaged chest, trying to hide the fact that the tears were only coming faster now as she wrapped her arms around him. This was where she'd really wanted to be since she woke up, finding the comfort that she had discovered he was so good at bringing her. He stroked her hair gently as he whispered in her ear, "I wish I could promise you that."

She let out a shuddering sigh against his chest. She wasn't an idiot – of course she knew he couldn't really promise her that, but she was hoping he would have at least tried to lie convincingly to her. "Well, can you at least promise me you won't die trying to protect me, then?"

He tightened his hold on her. "No, I can't promise you that, either. I would give you almost anything you asked – but not that. I couldn't take it if anything happened to you, either. You know that."

She'd managed to stop the tears enough that she felt safe to look up at him. Surely there had to be some way she could convince him that it would be better if he was the one to go on without her, if it had to happen that way, because really that was the way she'd prefer it. "Alistair –" she began.

He cut her off by kissing her. A thorough, gentle, yet passionate kiss tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he was afraid he'd never get to kiss her again. It was a kiss that made her bubbly and warm all over in the feeling she now recognized must be love.

When he pulled away, he looked down at her, his hazel eyes implacably serious. "You won't convince me otherwise, Ayla. I'll do whatever I have to, and I know you will too. So can we just try to protect each other, and find the best ways to get us both out of this alive? It worked out for the best this time, didn't it?"

She sighed and nodded in acceptance. The stubborn set of his jaw told her he wouldn't listen to anything she had to say. She would, as he said, do whatever she had to do. It wasn't like she wanted to die, either, but if it looked like that was the only way, she would do it without hesitation. "Okay, yes, we can just try to protect each other, and see if we can make it out of this Blight together." _Or maybe not at all, if something happens to you._

He smiled down at her. "Thank you. Now – I don't suppose you could – say it again?"

She was half-tempted to ask, _Say what again?_ but she knew by the goofy smile on his face just what he was after. But she was willing to humor him, if for no other reason than he had almost just died. Her face flushing again with embarrassment, she said, "I love you, Alistair."

He gave her a huge grin, capturing her lips again in a much more heated kiss, tasting her with a scorching intensity as she answered him back, the kiss setting fire to her veins, before he pulled back once more. "I love you, too," he whispered. He winked at her before adding, "That was worth almost getting eaten by a dragon."

She swatted him lightly on the chest, not making it a hard blow out of consideration for his injuries, but he still yelped. "Don't you dare joke about that," she scolded him, but she couldn't help smiling because damn it, she was just so happy he was alive. And the fact that her happiness was so intrinsically tied up in the well-being of another person was still frightening to her, but she didn't know what she could do about it now.

"Sorry," he apologized, though the twinkle in his eyes and his bright grin made him look largely unrepentant. "I'm just - really glad to hear it." He glanced around at the tower that they were in now. "I'm assuming we beat the dragon? What exactly happened?"

So Ayla explained the whole story to him as she'd heard it, even the part where she'd lost control and ended up attacking Aedan. Reciting that made her ashamed of her actions all over again, and she found she couldn't meet Alistair's eyes when she said it. But he grasped her chin in his hand and forced her eyes up to meet his when she'd finished. "Hey," he said softly. "I don't think any less of you for that, okay? I – never wanted to distress you that much that you would lose control. I'm - so sorry."

"No, it's all right," she assured him. "You couldn't have known that would happen. _I_ didn't know that would happen. I hope something like that never happens again, but if it does, Morrigan knows how to deal with it now."

"I guess I owe her my thanks, then," Alistair said wryly, looking as though he'd rather step on hot coals than thank her.

"Yes, you do," Ayla replied sternly, trying to keep her lips from twitching with amusement. "You two really should try to get along better, you know."

"If my lady wishes it, I can try it," Alistair winked at her. "I can't make any promises on that one, either, but I can attempt it at least." He studied her for a moment before he asked, "Are you really feeling all right? You look a little pale."

"I overused my powers with that uncontrolled shift," Ayla answered, touched at his concern for her. "I'm rather sore and exhausted right now, but I just need some rest to get over it." She looked around, making sure that no one was immediately nearby, but it looked like the others were still gathered on the far side of the tower, talking and relaxing in small groups. She leaned into Alistair's ear to whisper, "So as much as I'd like to ride you into oblivion right now, I'm afraid I haven't the strength for it."

He groaned, sliding a hand into her hair and pressing a quick and fierce kiss to her lips. "Why would you even bring that up when you can't follow through on it? That is a cruel, cruel thing to do, woman."

She grinned wickedly at him. "Exactly. It's part of your punishment for scaring me half to death."

"That's far too cruel to use as a punishment," he muttered, looking at her with dark eyes. "Can't you just hit me again?"

Ayla laughed in response, before she heard footsteps behind her, making her turn and look to see Aedan approaching them. "You'll just have to wait until we've both rested, and are alone again," she whispered, before pulling back and turning to greet Aedan.

"Hey, Alistair, how are you feeling?" Aedan asked, stopping a few feet away.

Alistair shrugged. "Tired and sore, but otherwise fine." He hesitated, before going on, "Thanks for making sure I came out of it alive."

Aedan cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting his eyes away. "You're welcome." He fixed Alistair with a sudden, serious stare. "But listen, don't ever do that again. I won't forgive you if you leave me as the last Warden in Ferelden. I'm not fighting this Blight alone, understand?"

Ayla had to smile at the shocked look on Alistair's face as he nodded in response. "Um, right. I'll – I'll do my best." He paused, before adding, "The same goes to you, Aedan. I won't forgive you if you leave me to fight alone, either."

Aedan grinned, nodding back at him. "Understood. Well, considering it's over halfway through the day already, we might as well stay here and let you rest until tomorrow. Think you'll be up to going to the temple tomorrow for Andraste's ashes?"

Alistair looked at Ayla, and she nodded in response, letting him know she would be well enough to move by tomorrow. He turned to Aedan. "Tomorrow should be fine. I'll be recovered enough by then."

"Good, then we can get off this bloody dangerous mountain after that. I'll go see if Leliana has more food for you." Aedan turned, then stopped and briefly turned back. "Let me know when you're feeling back to yourself, all right? I still have to punch you." He walked away before Alistair could answer, leaving him staring after Aedan in shock.

Ayla laughed when he turned to her. "Why would he punch me?"

"I told you, it's punishment for scaring people half to death," she retorted, smiling at the still-shocked look on his face. She got the feeling Alistair had never had so many people quite so concerned about his safety before. It made a sad sort of sense, given that he didn't have the loving family he should have had. "You'll have to get used to it. You have people that care about you, remember?"

There was that beautiful smile of his again, and she couldn't believe how happy it made her to see it. "People that care about me – and people that love me, right?" he asked her softly, pulling her closer again.

"Right," she nodded in confirmation, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "So you have to be more careful."

"That, I think, is something I can promise." He smiled down at her. "Will you stay with me?"

"Well, I don't think I'm up to moving yet, anyway," she teased him. When he fake-scowled at her, she laughed and said more seriously, "Yes, I'll stay. This is where I want to be." She didn't add _always_ , because she was a little too cowardly to tell him that yet, but when his eyes softened, she felt like he understood what she'd really meant anyway.

So she stayed with him that night while they both rested, and as she went to sleep with the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear, a sound she thought she'd lost, she made herself a promise. She would do everything in her power to make sure she could stay here with him, because he was her life-mate now, whether he knew it yet or not.


	27. The Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair wakes up with Ayla the morning after her confession; the party enters the Gauntlet, meeting the Guardian; Ayla sees someone in the Gauntlet that she was not expecting.

Chapter 27: The Gauntlet

Having woken up before anybody else, Alistair was content to remain where he was for the moment, lying on his pallet and holding Ayla in his arms. He almost never woke up before her, so he wanted to enjoy the rare opportunity to watch her as she slept. The sun had just recently risen, washing their campsite in the ruined tower with pale light, but it was a good deal colder than it had been the previous day.

As a result, Ayla was burrowed tightly into his side, as though to soak up all the heat she could from him. He tucked the blanket more carefully around her, and rubbed his hand over her arm, which felt cool to the touch where it wasn't covered by the drakescale armor. She'd gone to sleep wearing it; he assumed it was likely more comfortable to sleep in than the armor he usually wore. Her face looked calm and peaceful where it lay pillowed on his chest, any signs of tension or worry gone, and he was relieved to see her looking so well. He'd been so terrified in that moment before he'd reached her and gotten her out of the dragon's way; he hadn't even stopped to consider what might happen to him.

But if he had, he would have been fine with dying for her; he still was, in spite of the fact that she seemed less than pleased with the idea. He shook his head in wonder as he remembered the events of yesterday. She'd said she loved him. He still couldn't believe it. As badly as he'd wanted it to happen, he hadn't truly expected it would. Why would she love him, when no one else in his life ever had before? Well, except maybe Duncan.

Though Duncan had never come straight out and said so, Alistair believed – hoped - that Duncan had thought of him like a surrogate son, as he had thought of Duncan like the father he'd never had. Duncan was the only person that Alistair believed had ever truly cared about him, just him, prior to now. So for anyone, but most especially the beautiful woman he now held in his arms, to love him had seemed like an impossible dream to him, as much as he had wanted the dream to come true.

The fact that it somehow had – that a woman who was everything he'd ever wanted and even some things he hadn't realized he had wanted, said that she loved him – left him happier than he could ever remember being before. So happy that he felt as though he were lighter than air in spite of his wounds, like he could float into the sky if she wasn't there on top of him holding him to earth. How he had ever gotten this lucky, he didn't know. Perhaps it was the Maker's way of repaying him for the mess his life had been before he'd entered the Grey Wardens.

Granted, it wasn't like his life was a perfect paradise right now, but somehow, the fact that she loved him and he had other people that cared for him, like a man he felt he could safely call brother, made it seem as though it was. Things like the Blight and the fact that he'd nearly been eaten by a dragon paled in comparison to the fact that he'd finally found the place where he wanted to be. In spite of the dangers of their life currently, this was the best he could ever remember his life being.

And it was because of her, he thought, trailing his hand down her cheek as he watched her. He had to make sure that he didn't lose her. She stirred at his touch, and her eyes opened, taking a moment to focus before she saw him. She smiled.

"Sorry," he murmured, dropping his hand away. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's no problem," she replied, running a hand lightly over his bandaged chest. He sucked in his breath at the feather-light touch of her fingers that left sparks of fire in their wake. "How are you feeling?"

He caught her hand to stop the torment she was inflicting on him. "Better. I'm still sore but nothing I can't handle. How about you?"

She laced her fingers through his; smiling slyly up at him as if suspecting the reason he'd stopped her. "The same. Still a little sore and weak, but moving on shouldn't be a problem. We need to recover those ashes, after everything we've gone through to get to them."

"Definitely," he nodded in agreement. They'd both nearly lost their lives on this quest already; it would be unthinkable not to find the ashes now. "Should we get up now?"

She sighed, stretching a little against him. He tried to ignore the brush of her body against his. "I suppose we should. Since I cannot spend the time with you here the way I would like to, we might as well get you back in armor and ready to move on."

He grinned down at her, unable to stop himself from asking, "And how would you like to spend the time here with me?"

She laughed softly. "In a way that we shouldn't without at least a tent to shield us from prying eyes." She pushed herself up to lean over him and gift him with a soft, lingering kiss, before whispering in his ear, "With you inside me."

He nearly choked at the bluntness of her words; words that made his body ache with longing for her. Unable to help it, he pulled her back down for a harder kiss, revelling in the intoxicating taste of her mouth, even as he ran his hands over whatever parts of her body he could reach. She responded in kind, her fingers drifting all over him, making his blood run even hotter.

He probably would have entirely forgotten the reason why they shouldn't be doing what they were doing had not Morrigan's voice suddenly interrupted them. "Ugh. I will refuse to take the last watch next time, if it means I will have to be witness to such sights."

He jerked in surprise, even as Ayla pulled back and rolled off him, laughing. Morrigan stood a few feet away, hands planted on her hips, glaring down at them. Alistair sighed, annoyed at himself for losing control and Morrigan for interrupting. "No one asked you to watch, you know," he pointed out.

"I assure you I was not trying to watch," Morrigan retorted icily. "I merely happened to spot it when I turned around and came back this way."

"We're sorry, Morrigan," Ayla replied breathlessly, still chuckling.

Morrigan snorted. "Sorry you got caught, perhaps." Though if Alistair didn't know better, he'd swear she looked amused before she turned away, calling over her shoulder, "If you feel well enough for that, Templar, you should be well enough to get up so we may move on."

Ayla laughed harder as Alistair sat up, glaring down at her. "That was your fault, you know," he grumbled. "You keep teasing me."

She sat up, as well, and he couldn't help grinning as she smiled cheekily at him. How could he even pretend to be mad at her? "If it helps, I'm teasing myself too." She winked at him.

"It doesn't help, no. Maker, I want you," he groaned, fisting his hands in his hair, trying and failing not to notice how beautiful she looked.

"No less than I want you," she replied softly. "Sadly, it will have to wait until we get off this mountain and have some privacy again." She got to her feet, though he noticed it was a little less gracefully than she normally would have. "So the faster we get going, the sooner we will have our privacy."

"Right," he agreed. When she put it that way, he couldn't wait to get going. He got to his feet as well; though the parts of his body that had met dragon teeth were still sore and painfully protesting their use, and he felt a little weaker than he usually did, he was able to stand without too much trouble. Ayla picked up a piece of the plate armor that Aedan had found for him last night – Alistair had not asked where, though he suspected it had come from one of the bodies of the dragon cult members – and proceeded to strap it on. He hoped as she did so that they had seen the last of the obstacles they would have to deal with to get the ashes.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was about two hours later that morning, after everyone had gotten up and eaten, that they stood in front of the temple built into the mountainside at last. Aedan had asked Sten and Wynne to remain behind at the campsite to guard their exit, just in case there were more dragon cultists lurking around somewhere. Aedan pushed open the intricately carved wooden doors that marked the entrance, and the six of them that remained trooped inside the temple.

It was smaller than the first temple they'd entered, Alistair noted as they climbed the set of stairs leading to the first chamber, though still made of stone. Several statues flanked the sides of the room, bearing large white shields. Some of them were missing their heads, just as some of the pillars supporting the roof were beginning to crumble away. Cobwebs and dust lay over everything. Standing in front of the door leading to the next room was a dark-haired, bearded man in shining, studded silver plate armor and a winged helmet with a large war hammer strapped to his back.

They approached him cautiously, Aedan in the lead, as Alistair wondered if this was another dragon cultist. "I bid you welcome, pilgrims," the man said in an eerie, otherworldly voice as they stopped a few feet from him.

"Who are you?" Aedan asked, his voice cautious.

"I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of the Sacred Ashes," the man replied. "I have waited years for this."

Aedan blinked, glancing at the others before turning back to the guardian. "You've – been waiting for someone to take the Ashes?"

The guardian shook his head. "No one can take the Ashes. They belong here. It has been my duty, my life, to protect the Urn and prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting have I been here, and shall I remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea."

Years beyond counting – did that mean he was a spirit? Alistair wondered. It would explain why his voice sounded so odd.

"Right," Aedan said slowly, studying the guardian carefully. "So how exactly do we get to the Urn?"

"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourselves worthy," the guardian replied.

"So – we have to fight you?" Aedan raised his eyebrows, obviously confused. Alistair hoped not; he was really wishing for a little more recovery time before they had to engage in battle again.

"It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourselves. If not . . ." the guardian trailed off, as though to indicate it would be obvious what would happen.

"Well, what is the Gauntlet then?" Aedan demanded.

"The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo four tests of faith, and we shall see how your souls fare," the guardian answered simply.

Aedan turned to look back at them, and they all nodded in response - what else could they do? He shrugged and turned back to the guardian. "All right, let's get this over with then."

"Before you go, there is something I must ask." The guardian studied Aedan with unnerving intensity before continuing, "I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past – your suffering, and the suffering of others. You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show them no mercy. Do you think you failed your parents?"

_Ouch_ , Alistair thought, shocked. _That was harsh._ Aedan, for his part, looked like he'd been struck, his face wavering with grief and fury as he struggled to find an answer. "Yes," he said at last, not looking the guardian in the eye. "I should have insisted that my mother come with me at least. I know my father would not have made it, but my mother . . ." His voice cracked and he didn't finish the sentence.

"Thank you," the guardian said impassively, as though uncaring what wounds he'd opened up with his question. "That is all I wished to know."

Alistair had not seen Aedan so distraught since the day he'd told them what happened; it unnerved him, since his fellow Warden so rarely showed such emotion. "You are too hard on yourself," he told Aedan softly. hoping that he could relieve his feelings somewhat. "No one is perfect."

"If your mother made the choice not to go, it is hardly your fault," Ayla added from where she stood next to Alistair.

"Is there any religion that does not thrive upon guilt like a glutton at his lunch?" Morrigan snarled, glaring fiercely at the guardian. "No? I thought not."

"You could not have known what would happen. You did what you thought was best," Leliana murmured.

"And now, the self-flagellation?" Zevran asked scornfully, glaring at the guardian as well. "That is what comes next in these things, no?"

"Let's just – not talk about it anymore, okay?" Aedan said unsteadily, not meeting their eyes. "Can we move on now, guardian?"

But the spirit had turned his gaze on Alistair, and Alistair grimaced, dreading what was coming next as the guardian continued, "And what of those that follow you? Alistair, Knight and Warden . . . you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don't you, if you should have died and not him?"

It was exactly the question that Alistair had been afraid of; the question that still ate him up inside whenever he allowed himself to think of it. He could never shake the nightmarish image of Duncan falling beneath dozens of darkspawn blades. If only he could have gotten Duncan out of there – if only he could have saved him - he knew all the things they needed to know in order to defeat the Blight. He would have been so much more useful than Alistair himself was. "I . . . yes," he answered reluctantly, feeling the guilt tearing at him. "If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would have been better. If I'd just had the chance, maybe . . ."

"Alistair . . ." He looked to his left to see Ayla looking up at him, disappointment and hurt mingling on her face. Suddenly realizing how that must have sounded to her, he opened his mouth to explain, but the guardian interrupted, already moving on to his next target.

"And you . . ." his gaze was freezing as he looked at Leliana, "why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?"

Leliana's eyes were wide with shock as she protested, "I never said that! I –"

But the guardian was continuing on, inexorably. "In Orlais you were someone. In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also revelled in it . . . It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative."

"You're saying I made it up, for . . . for the attention?" Leliana's voice was an indignant squeak as she faced the guardian down. "I did not! I know what I believe!"

The spirit, however, said nothing further to her, merely moved on to the next person, his gaze swinging over to Zevran. "And the Antivan elf . . ."

"Is it my turn now?" Zevran said blandly. "Hurrah. I'm so excited."

"Many have died at your hand. But is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of –"

Zevran cut the spirit off, his eyes wide with shock and fury. "How do you know about that?"

"I know much; it is allowed to me," the spirit replied simply. "The question stands, however. Do you regret –"

"Yes," Zevran interrupted again, his face tight with fury and what looked like sincere regret, which surprised Alistair. He hadn't truly thought the elf capable of experiencing such an emotion. "The answer is yes, if that's what you wish to know. I do. Now move on."

The guardian did so without further comment to the elf. "And you, Morrigan, Flemeth's daughter . . . What –"

Just as Zevran had done, Morrigan cut the spirit off, waving her hand dismissively. "Begone, spirit. I will not play your games."

"I will respect your wishes," the guardian replied. Alistair wished he'd known that not answering was an option, since he could sense that Ayla was now upset with him.

The guardian now turned his gaze on Ayla, who stiffened. "And finally, the shapeshifter who is so far from home. You claim to fight for the good of others, to help people and protect them. Yet what about the men and women that you and your brother killed in the name of your father? The ones that you tortured until they screamed and cried and begged for the release of death? Do you believe that was necessary for the good of others? Or are you the monster that people fear you to be?"

Alistair watched Ayla; she was carefully avoiding looking at any of them, her posture rigid and her hands clenched. He remembered her mentioning something about the way she'd killed the bandits that had killed her father. He'd never really given much thought to it, but she had said she hadn't let them die quickly. He had a hard time imagining her doing what the guardian had said, though. And he certainly didn't believe she was a monster, whatever she might have done to them. Because he had seen how hard she tried to help others, and how much she cared for them; how many times she'd gotten herself injured trying to protect them.

Just as he thought she wouldn't answer the spirit, she said tightly, "It was necessary. I would do it all over again if I had the chance. They tortured my father and others who were unfortunate enough to cross their path. My brother and I were only returning the favour."

The spirit made no comment, only nodding as if that was what he'd expected to hear, before he turned back at last to Aedan. "The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek." So saying, the guardian disappeared in a flash of bright light, and the wooden door behind him swung open.

"Well," Aedan said after a long moment of tense, uncomfortable silence, "let's hope that was the worst of it and keep going, shall we?"

He started forward into the next room, and everybody began to follow. Alistair wanted to say something to Ayla to make her feel better, but he didn't know where to begin. He started to follow after everyone else, but Ayla caught his arm, halting him. "Hold on a moment, I need to talk to you." He nodded as she called to Aedan, "We'll catch up in a minute."

Aedan waved his hand in response as he continued on, and the other three followed him. Ayla pulled Alistair a little off to the side of the door, facing him with her hands planted on her hips, her face stern. "Want to tell me what that was about? Just what makes you think that everyone would be better off if you died?!"

She _was_ upset, Alistair thought ruefully. Once again he'd opened his mouth and said something without thinking it all the way through. Now he needed to fix it, because he couldn't stand to think of having hurt her. "I – I didn't mean that _I_ would be better off, obviously. This . . . is the best my life has ever been. I was just . . ." he sighed, trying to think of how to explain himself. "I was thinking of Ferelden, and the Blight. Duncan would know what to do to fix everything, and I don't, so . . . it would have been better for everyone else."

She shook her head, scowling. "No, it wouldn't. You told me once that Duncan was close to being claimed by the taint. He would most likely have died before the Blight was ever finished. How would that be better than having a young, strong Grey Warden who isn't about to die right away available to fight the Blight? Even if he does have more knowledge, he might not have even been around to use it. And what about _me_? Did I not tell you that I love you? Do you think I would say something like that and not _mean_ it?!"

He gaped at her. She looked so . . . furious and _hurt_. He suddenly realized what the real problem had been with what he'd said. If she did truly love him, _she_ wouldn't think that she was better off without him – which was something he still had trouble wrapping his mind around. He'd basically said that he didn't believe her, or worse, that her feelings didn't matter to him. "No – I – I know you wouldn't say that without meaning it. I . . . just . . . I still have a hard time believing that you even said it, because . . . well . . . no one ever has before."

She sighed, and he could see the fury and hurt drain out of her face, replaced by sympathy and sadness. "Alistair . . . just because no one ever said it . . . that's not your fault. It doesn't make you unworthy of love. I know it's been tough for you, growing up without any real support, but you need to believe in yourself more." She looked up at him, shook her head, and went on, "Do you trust me?"

While he didn't know what to say in response to anything else she said, he knew the answer to that. It was one of the few things in his life over which he had no doubt. "Of course I do."

She nodded, studying him carefully before going on, "Well, if you can't believe in yourself just yet, then trust _me_. Trust me when I say that _I_ believe in you, and it's not for no reason. It's because you're an amazing man. You believe in Aedan, as well, don't you?"

He nodded, dumbfounded and in shock, wondering where she was going with this now.

"He believes in you too. He needs your help, and he trusts you to back him up. No leader can do it all on their own; they need someone they can trust to support them. So believe him when he says that you are that person. And everyone else - they all trust you too. Anyone that's ever made you feel unworthy – that was their problem, not yours. Don't let them drag you down anymore." She closed the distance between them, and reached up to gently cradle his face in her hands. "Please, Alistair, for the sake of the people that care about you, believe in you, and love you, don't ever say or even think that it would have been better if you'd died. I won't forgive you for saying that again."

He could only stare at her for a long moment, trying to process what she'd said. She thought he was amazing? She really, truly loved him? Just when he'd thought it wasn't possible to love her more than he already did, she went and said something like that, completely flooring him. She believed in him. Aedan believed in him. They all did. His own family might not want him, but he'd found other people that did. And he owed it to them to be better, to try to believe in himself more. He nodded slowly. "I won't ever say that again, I promise. I wasn't thinking, really. I just . . ." he shook his head. "It was a stupid thing to say. I'll do my best to not think that way anymore. Thank you."

He pulled her into a hug, and just held her for a moment, breathing in her scent, relishing the feel of her there, as she murmured, "You're welcome. We should catch up to the others." She pulled back and started to head towards the door.

"Wait," he called, halting her. He couldn't let her go without saying something to make her feel better, as she had done for him. He knew what to say now. "About what the guardian said to you . . ."

She turned back to face him, her expression frozen, guarded. "What about it?"

"I just wanted to tell you," he replied, closing the distance between them, "whatever you did to them, whatever the guardian says, you're not a monster."

Her eyes went wide with surprise, though the rest of her expression remained guarded, as she looked up at him. "You did hear what he said, right? That I tortured them until they screamed and cried?"

He nodded. "I heard. And I know you. I know you wouldn't have done something like that just for the sake of it, that you only did it because you loved your father and wanted revenge. That doesn't necessarily mean I agree with it," he shrugged but went on, "but it also doesn't mean that I think any less of you for it. I know that you do help people, and protect people, to the point that you've nearly gotten yourself killed more than once. So, you're not a monster, you're a good person."

She shook her head, though her eyes were soft now as she looked up at him. "Alistair, you have no idea what I did to them. What I would do to anyone that hurt somebody I loved. So how can you even say that I am a good person?"

He smiled. "Like I said, I know you. And if you can't believe that you are, then trust me when I say that you are." He winked at her.

Her face broke into an answering smile as she rolled her eyes. "How clever of you, turning my words around on me. All right, I'll believe you. Let's go before we get left behind."

He followed her into the next room, feeling somehow even better than he had this morning, though he had not thought it possible. He felt like a weight had lifted off of him now that they'd talked this out between them. Surely the rest of the gauntlet would be nothing after this.

In the next room, they joined up with Aedan and the others where they stood facing a ghostly figure surrounded in swirling mist in an alcove of stone, halfway through the room. Alistair could see that there were three more figures in the remaining alcoves of the room before the next door. The figure was currently speaking something that sounded rather like a riddle, which after a moment's pause, Aedan answered correctly. The figure then went on to speak about its role in Andraste's life, from the sounds of it, before disappearing.

This pattern was repeated three more times, and between Aedan and Leliana, all of the riddles were answered and all of the spirits disappeared. When the last one was gone, the door at the other end of the room opened. "That wasn't so bad," Aedan said, heading towards the door while they followed. "Riddles I can deal with. Hopefully the next room is as easy."

As soon as they went through the door, however, they were enveloped in complete blackness. Alistair glanced around him, but couldn't see any of the others. Oddly enough, he could see his own hands and body perfectly fine, but he could not see anything else. He reached out to his left, where Ayla had been, but met empty air. "Hey, where did everybody go?" he called, hoping he could hear them at least. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

A light wavered and shimmered in front of him, about three feet away. He squinted at it as it began to take form in the shape of a person, wondering what new trickery of the Gauntlet this was. Finally, the light solidified in front of him into a familiar figure.

"Duncan?!" he exclaimed.

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"Father?!"

It couldn't really be her father, Ayla reasoned with herself as she stared at the ghostly figure of her father that was almost solid but not quite. It had to be another demon or trick of the Fade or something. After all, everyone else had disappeared, to the point where she couldn't see, hear, touch or even smell them there, so this had to be some sort of magic trick of the Gauntlet.

It looked just like her father, just as it had in the Fade, exactly as he'd looked the last time she'd seen him alive. Well, really, exactly as he'd looked almost all her life: dressed in the sky-blue tunic of the Order with the symbol emblazoned in white on the front, with his grey wolf-skin leggings and cloak from his own animal kin, and with the gold Captain armband on his left arm that was now her brother's. Indeed, he looked just like an older version of Mardin, the flame-red hair he shared with her and her brother streaked with grey, his ice-blue eyes identical to Mardin's, even their height and size roughly the same. The only difference between the two aside from age was that her father was invariably more serious than Mardin.

Just at the moment, though, he was smiling; a warm smile that wrenched her heart even as she told herself it wasn't him. "Ayla, my daughter," he said, his voice as loving as it was eerily otherworldly, as the guardian's had been.

She shook her head in denial. "You can't be him. This is just another demon's trick. You are dead!"

"Yes, I am indeed," he replied seriously.

She gaped at him. She hadn't quite been expecting that response; the demon in the Fade had tried studiously to convince her that her father was still alive. What new trick was this?

"I have not come back to life, if that is what you are thinking," he continued, "nor am I a demon or a trick. This is truly me, but I am nothing but a spirit now, sent by the Goddess from the World Beyond to deliver a message to you. Her influence in this world is extremely limited, and this was one of the few ways She could get a message to you, and this place one of the few places it could be done, due to the many spirits here."

"A – a message?" Ayla said weakly. This all sounded very plausible. She had heard of many instances where the Goddess had used a loved one's spirit to deliver a message. So, could this really be her father, then? "It – it really is you?"

"It really is me, Ayla," he replied, his face softening. "I am sorry. My pride got me killed, and placed a heavy burden on you and your brother. I have been a poor father to you, I'm afraid, making you fear to care for others."

"No, Father," she exclaimed, feeling horribly guilty for making him believe that. "You could not have known what would happen; no one did. One of us should have gone with you. You were the best father we could have ever had; we loved you dearly. That was why it hurt so to lose you. And I will not have you blaming yourself for my cowardice, my shortcomings. That is all my own fault."

Her father smiled warmly again. "I am glad to hear that you believe that, even if I cannot fully agree with you. I told you both that it was not necessary to come with me, so the burden for that lies with me. But you are not a coward, and I am proud of you. You and Mardin both, and I love you both more than you can ever know."

She could feel tears slipping down her face now; great. She was crying again, damn it all to the Pit. But it was everything she'd ever wanted to hear, and she so wanted to hug her father, so she moved to close the distance, but her arm passed through him as she reached for him.

He looked at her sadly as a tear trickled down his own face. "How I wish I could hold you too, daughter, but I am only a spirit now, and –" he glanced behind him, almost as if he could hear something she couldn't. "I am running out of time now. I must say what I have come to say."

She nodded, struggling to control her tears. "The – the message – what is it?"

"The Goddess is the one who sent you to this world, because your destiny lies here," her father began, meeting her gaze steadily. "The choice of whether or not to remain here is entirely yours, however. She wanted you to see what was at stake before you made your decision. If you wish to go back home, you have but to say so, and it will be done. She will not force you to follow your destiny."

Ayla had already made her decision a long time ago, and it was only cemented further now that she knew how she felt about Alistair. She shook her head. "No. I will stay here." She paused. "But – Mardin – does he know what happened to me?"

Her father nodded. "He does. Cranin informed him you'd been transported to another world." She sighed with relief at that, even as he beamed with pride at her. "I had told the Goddess you would choose to follow your destiny, and I am glad to see I was right."

She flushed, embarrassed at her father's praise. "It's nothing, really. I had little to do at home, after all. But what exactly is my destiny here? To help with the Blight?"

Her father shook his head and smiled. "The Blight is part of it, but it is not all of it. Surely you must have noticed by now how out of balance this world is?"

She nodded. Everywhere they went, there was tragedy, death, and chaos. Things were out of control and unnatural; the balance of the world was distorted. She had noticed.

"It has been this way since mages in this world used their powers and broke through to the World Beyond. Such a thing is not allowed, and when it occurred, the balance of this world was damaged beyond repair. The mages were thrust out, but the harm had already been done. They had broken the laws of the universe, and for that, they were punished. They became the darkspawn, and began to ravage the world of Thedas, bringing it nearly to destruction." Her father's face was grim as he recited the tale.

"But why did the Goddess not stop it?" Ayla asked. "Could she not intervene?"

Her father shook his head again in response. "This world was once much like ours, in that the Goddess and those that serve Her could intervene more freely and influence more readily. One of Her followers, Her half-brother, Aldrain, was the main guardian of this world, and did his best to guide it. But once the damage was done, She and all Her followers were shut out of this world. Their influence is very limited now. They can only give dreams or visions to certain people, try to direct those few that can help restore the balance, or at least keep this world from sliding totally into darkness. They were able to help the first of the Wardens to learn how to combat the darkspawn, and since then, have done the best they could to direct others. And for a few centuries, a somewhat shaky balance was restored. But now, things are sliding into darkness again."

"With the start of the new Blight," Ayla guessed, "and the slaughter at Ostagar."

"The new Blight," her father confirmed, "is the start of the imbalance. But there are many more trials coming, and so the Goddess and Her followers have begun to do what little they can to combat the darkness. She has gathered together those destined to help fight it; all of your companions have a role to play. Ordinarily, one born in another world could not remain in a different world, due to the balance, but in this case, She has foreseen that the balance will improve with your presence, and so you were brought here. Your destiny is now tied to this world, and to more than just the Blight."

"What do you mean?" Ayla asked uncertainly. "What is my destiny aside from the Blight?"

"Come now, Ayla," her father said. "You know what else your destiny is."

She stared at her father, trying to think. What had Flemeth said about her destiny? Who you first met, popped into her mind suddenly. She had met Alistair first, she realized. Well, the other recruits, including Aedan, had been there, but if she was honest with herself, she'd really only noticed Alistair at the time. She'd thought it was because he was a Grey Warden that she'd met him, but really, if it was only that, she could have met any of the Wardens. So perhaps it wasn't only about him being a Warden. "Do you mean – Alistair?" she asked her father at last.

He smiled, obviously pleased that she'd come to the right conclusion. "Indeed. Your destiny is tied to his. So, yes, the Blight is part of it, but there is still much else for you both to do. He is, as you suspected, your life-mate."

Fallorians believed that one's life-mate was the one person that they were destined to be with above all others, their other half. To think that she had truly found her life-mate in another world was astonishing for her, but no less than that her entire destiny lay elsewhere. "Father," she said slowly, "does that mean you approve?"

He nodded, smiling warmly. "I do. He is a good match for you, daughter, and I wish I could be there the day that you are bound together. But, unfortunately, I cannot, and this is the last time I will see you until you join me in the World Beyond. Please make sure that is many years from now."

"I – I will, Father," she promised, trying to hold back the tears that were wanting to threaten again, the ones that she had managed to get under control when he was telling her about her destiny.

He glanced behind him again. "I must say goodbye now. Be strong, my daughter, for there are many trials ahead, but know that the Goddess is doing all She can to help you. I love you, Ayles."

Her tears burst forth at that. Only her father and Mardin ever called her Ayles, and while Mardin did it frequently, she couldn't remember the last time her father had. "I love you, too, Papa."

He smiled, tears trickling down his face as well, and in a flash of light, he was gone. "Papa?" she cried, but there was no answer, and the darkness suddenly disappeared from around her, leaving her standing in a stone room, back in the temple.

"Ayla?" She looked up to her right, to see Alistair standing there again, looking as wrecked as she felt, his eyes red-rimmed. Embarrassed to be caught crying twice in two days, when it had been years since she last cried, she hid her face in her hands, but he pulled her into his arms, resting his head atop hers.

There it was again, she thought. The comfort that his arms around her brought so easily. She struggled to get her crying under control, and after a few moments, finally got herself together. She pulled back and looked up at Alistair, smiling weakly. "Sorry," she managed, her voice scratchy. "I saw . . . my father. For real this time."

He nodded, clearing his throat. "I . . . saw Duncan. He . . . um, well, among other things, told me it wasn't my fault and to stop being an idiot." He chuckled, though it was a little watery sounding. "Basically what you told me."

"See?" She dredged up a smile for his benefit. "I told you to believe me."

"That you did," he murmured softly, smiling down at her in turn. "I suppose I should listen to you more often."

She nodded and grinned at him in reply, feeling a little better already, before she turned and glanced around the room; the others were all there, but appeared equally overwhelmed. Aedan was in Morrigan's arms, his face buried in the crook of her neck, while she stroked his hair. Which was quite possibly the most public display of affection Ayla had ever seen her witch friend engage in. Morrigan looked pissed, however, and grumbled something about the damn spirit and its guilt-mongering. She suspected Aedan must have seen his parents, or perhaps his entire family.

Zevran was standing with his back to them, his shoulders tense, hands clenched, and Ayla wondered if he'd had a visit from the woman he'd told the spirit he regretted killing. She wanted to talk to him, but figured that now would not be a good time; she recognized all the signals of not wanting to talk. Leliana looked similarly upset, as she hugged her arms to herself. Ayla pulled away entirely from Alistair and went to put a supporting arm around her friend's shoulders. "I believe you, about the vision, you know," she said softly. "You saw what you needed to see to set you on the right path."

Leliana looked up at her, smiling tremulously. "Thank you, my friend. You have no idea what that means to me."

Aedan walked past them towards the next door, his eyes looking as red-rimmed as everyone else's. "Let's go." His voice came out sounding a little cracked; he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "That's two down, but we have two more tests to go. So let's get this over with." He went over to the door, Morrigan and Zevran following close behind.

Ayla let go of Leliana's shoulders, nodding to her friend; Alistair had come up on her other side and they proceeded to follow the others to the next room. Ayla was sincerely hoping that the next few trials would not be quite so emotionally wrenching.


	28. Andraste's Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party continues on their way through the Gauntlet, fighting versions of themselves and having to remove their clothing to pass through the flames; Alistair has a little difficulty dealing with his desire; Ayla tells Alistair about her childhood in Fallor.

Chapter 28: Andraste's Ashes

Alistair had no idea what to expect for the next test when they entered the room, but it wasn't what they found. The next room was a good deal larger than the one they'd just left, and bare of any adornment at all, nothing but a room of stone bricks from top to bottom. At first it appeared empty, but once they'd all entered, the door slammed shut behind them, and six wavering lights appeared across the room.

Aedan held up a hand to stop them advancing any further into the room as they all waited to see what was going to happen. The lights began to take shape until they formed people, just as they had in the previous room. Alistair's eyes widened in shock as he took in the details of these people when they finally, more or less, solidified. They weren't what he could call totally solid, but less see-through than what Duncan had been in the previous test.

It was them. He could see himself, Aedan, Ayla, Leliana, Morrigan, and Zevran across the room in those ghostly shapes. They looked exactly like each of them, down to the armor and weapons, but the looks on their faces were unfamiliar; hard and cruel. The figures drew their weapons, and they looked solid enough. "They're . . . us," Alistair said, shocked.

"It looks that way," Aedan agreed, sounding equally surprised. "I suppose this means that rather than fighting the Guardian, we have to fight ourselves." He drew his sword and started forward. "I'd rather do this a hundred times over than that last test, anyway."

Alistair drew his own sword and readied his shield, frowning at the twinges of pain in his body as he did so. He might be better, but he wasn't in top fighting shape yet. It didn't look like he had a choice, however. He knew he couldn't fight the fake Ayla; he'd already failed at doing such a thing once, before he even knew that he loved her. He didn't think he'd have a problem with fighting the fake Morrigan, however, and it was the logical choice anyway, given that his usual role was to neutralize any mage first and foremost. So he started towards her, readying a smite.

"Zev!" Ayla exclaimed gleefully from behind Alistair as she pulled out her own weapons. "Do you realize what this means? We can fight each other all out without having to hold anything back!"

Alistair chanced a quick glance behind him to see the elf's face light up, losing the seriousness that had dimmed it since they'd talked to the Guardian. "How right you are, my dear! Shall we trade off, then?"

The two of them sped by Alistair, heading towards the version of themselves, veering off at the last second to face off against each other instead of their own selves, launching into the fight with unchecked enthusiasm. Alistair cast a worried glance at Ayla as he heard the all-too-real ring of swords, knowing that she wasn't fully recovered, either. But at that moment an arrow whizzed by his face so close it scraped his cheek, and he felt a bolt of energy racing towards him so fast he barely neutralized it in time.

Focus, he ordered himself sternly, turning his attention back to the fake Morrigan and moving closer to blast her with a smite. He would just have to trust that she would be fine, for there were too many enemies here for him to divide his attention. He continued making his way toward the fake Morrigan, as the real one behind him sent continual blasts of energy out to distract the versions of himself and Leliana. Arrows flew past him to lay down suppressing fire as well.

Aedan, meanwhile, appeared to be fighting himself with a sort of grim enjoyment, Alistair noticed as he dodged an ice spell. The match was as close as could be expected, however; it appeared the fakes had skill equal to their real counterparts.

This was proven true when he was knocked flat on his back by another bolt of energy, sent so fast after the ice spell he'd had no time to neutralize or dodge it. Morrigan was one of the few mages he'd met who could cast so fast; he wasn't used to facing anyone else who could do it, so he had to be more careful. He managed to get off another smite as he regained his feet; ignoring the clash of swords and the chaos of arrows and magic around him and focusing solely on the enemy in front of him.

He had to send off a few more smites, shrug off the disorienting weakness spell, and struggle his way along with semi-frozen limbs when he couldn't quite neutralize the next ice spell, before he finally got within swinging distance. He didn't hesitate, blocking her energy bolts with his shield while lunging forward with his sword. It pierced her through her stomach, causing the fake to let out a sharp cry that sounded very real, before he landed a finishing stroke to her throat, and the fake disappeared in a flash of light.

"Morrigan!" he heard Aedan shout, and looked over to see that Aedan had been sufficiently distracted by the fake's cry to turn away from his fight. Even as Alistair looked, Aedan's counterpart struck him full across his back, knocking him to the ground. He glanced quickly over to his left to make sure that his own double and Leliana's were sufficiently occupied; seeing that Leliana and Morrigan had it under control, he raced over to Aedan.

"I am fine, you idiot!" Morrigan shrieked behind him as he raced forward. Aedan had just barely succeeded in rolling out of the way of the next blow, but had yet to regain his feet. Alistair reached him just in time to block the next swing of the fake's sword with his own, though it sent a shockwave up his arm.

"Get up!" he hissed at Aedan, just barely managing to get enough leverage to knock the fake back and go on the offensive.

Aedan struggled his way to his feet; Alistair could see out of the corner of his eye that the blow to his back had gone through his armor and was dribbling blood even now. However, as soon as he was on his feet, Aedan swung his sword at his counterpart again, managing to strike a blow off the armor.

Alistair heard two more cries behind him, to his left, one sounding like Leliana and the other somewhat like himself, leading him to believe those fakes were now dead. He kept up his attack on Aedan's double, however, as it divided its attention between the two of them. The blows from the greatsword were surprisingly strong, and the reach exceeded that of his own sword, which made things a little difficult. Not to mention, Aedan's wound was slowing him down considerably, making his help less effective as well.

At that moment, he heard twin cries again off to his right, one that sounded so exactly like Ayla when she'd been caught by the tree that he flinched, his heart wrenching. _Do not look! Do not look!_ He ordered himself, keeping his attention focused forward. As he did so, he suddenly saw his opportunity as Aedan blocked a blow from the greatsword, leaving the fake's side wide open. He lunged forward, burying his sword straight into the offered target up to the hilt. The fake Aedan let out a cry as the others had done, as Alistair yanked his sword back out and Aedan delivered a finishing blow to the head. A flash of light accompanied this disappearance as well.

Alistair kept his sword and shield up as he turned to examine the room, his heart pounding. Leliana and Morrigan were hurrying towards them, Morrigan speeding up as Aedan slumped to his knees, blood still leaking down his back. Alistair breathed out a shaky sigh of relief as he saw the real Ayla sitting down, leaning back on her hands as she caught her breath, next to Zevran who was kneeling, bracing his weight on his swords and laughing.

Seeing that Morrigan had reached his fellow Warden and was healing him, Alistair sheathed his sword and put away his shield, ignoring the soreness and weariness of his body as he hurried over to Ayla's side. He knelt next to her, noticing that she was bleeding from several shallow cuts along her body, though she was beaming in obvious enjoyment. "I'm fine," she reassured him, squeezing the hand that he reached out for her with, before looking over to Zevran. "That was the most enjoyable fight I've had in a long time, Zev."

The elf chuckled, and Alistair noticed he was bleeding in several places as well. "I could say the same! Deadly sex goddess, indeed. Though I suspect the real one would be harder to defeat." He winked at Ayla.

She laughed softly. "You are certainly a more skilled assassin than you made yourself out to be in our first fight; and I would expect a fight against the real you to be more difficult as well."

Ignoring the banter between the two that still made him jealous, even though he knew how Ayla felt about him, Alistair dug out the health potion in his pouch, one of the few they'd had enough supplies left over to make after the fight with the dragon, and pressed it into Ayla's hands. "Drink this," he urged her.

She looked up at him, and he sucked in his breath at the blazing desire in her gaze as their eyes met. She took the health potion from his hands, which were now trembling with the effort not to touch her. As badly as his body was now surging with want, this was definitely far from the time or place, and he took deep breaths to try and control himself as she tipped her head back and drank the potion. He tore his eyes away from the tempting line of her neck and upper chest, glancing over at Zevran to see the elf smirking at him knowingly.

Alistair glared at him before looking over to where Aedan and Morrigan were, noticing that Morrigan was now helping Aedan to his feet, meaning his healing must be done. Meanwhile, Leliana approached Zevran and gave him a healing potion from her own supply. The elf thanked her and drank it before getting to his feet.

Alistair got up as well, having got himself mostly under control, and helped Ayla to her feet, noticing that the healing potion seemed to have been strong enough to have gotten rid of all the cuts that had been present. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her softly, trying not to meet her eyes again because he wasn't sure just how much temptation he could take right now.

"I'm fine," she replied. "What about you? Do your injuries from the dragon still hurt?"

"A little, but nothing too bad," he answered. Which was mostly true. His body was still aching from the onslaught of the dragon's wounds, as well as the magical beating it had taken earlier, but it was manageable. He could still move, after all.

"One more test, then," Aedan said as he approached the four of them, Morrigan next to him. Though he looked a bit paler than usual, Morrigan's healing appeared to have been effective enough to otherwise bring him back to normal. "We should get going."

They nodded and followed him into the next room, through the door that opened after the battle. This room was yet again different; a huge round chasm opened up the middle of the room between the two doors, surrounded by odd-looking squares built into the stone. Alistair could see no way across, though there was one square tile sticking out into the center of the chasm, directly in front of them and across from the door on the other side of the room, which looked like the beginning of a bridge.

"Another obstacle?" Morrigan groaned loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. "'Tis almost beyond endurance! What good is an incorporeal bridge? Are we supposed to imagine ourselves on the other side?"

"This one looks like a puzzle," Aedan mused, smiling over at the witch before studying the chasm as they all piled up in front of it. "We must have to figure out a way to get across."

"I'm terrible at puzzles," Alistair replied, frowning as he looked around the room, his eyes returning to the squares of stone. "Hey, you see those thingies over on the side of that huge chasm? I bet they're used for something. Maybe I should touch them or . . . stand on them."

Leliana laughed softly. "Alistair, normal people tend to avoid strange looking sections of the floor – 'thingies' as you say. They tend to be traps."

Zevran grinned. "Yes, next time we see a strange contraption, why don't you go stand on it? If something bad happens, hey, we know it's a trap."

Alistair frowned, glancing back and forth between the two rogues and the squares. "You don't really think they're traps – do you?"

"No, I think you're right, Alistair," Ayla said, moving forward towards one of the squares. "I don't see anything else we can do in this room but step on one of these squares."

"No, wait, let me do it." Alistair hurried forward to stop her, but he was too late, as she'd already stepped on one of the squares. He breathed a sigh of relief as nothing happened to her, but a half-solid tile of stone appeared in the middle of the chasm, joined to the piece that was already there.

They all stared at it, before Morrigan remarked, "What do you know, the Templar was right for once."

Alistair scowled at her. "At least I was offering suggestions. I didn't hear anybody else try to help – you included."

"Come on, you two, knock it off," Aedan sighed, looking out at the stone tile. "Still, it's not solid enough to stand on. But maybe if we try one of the stones on the other side . . ."

At this suggestion, Alistair hurried forward and stepped on one of the squares on the other side of the chasm. It made another half-solid piece appear further out. He tried a few more squares before he finally found one that appeared to completely solidify the piece that Ayla had created.

"Okay, that looks solid enough," Aedan said, starting forward.

"I do not know that it would be wise to step on it, even so," Morrigan began, but Aedan ignored her and stepped onto the newly made square. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Morrigan included, Alistair noted, as the square remained solid under their leader's feet.

"Well, now we just need a few more of those," Aedan noted. "Anyone else care to try?"

The others began to try stepping on the squares as well, and after several minutes of experimentation, they had created a bridge for Aedan to cross. Surprisingly, once they were made solid, the pieces remained even after they'd stepped off the squares used to make them. Once Aedan was all the way across, the door on the opposite side opened, and he waved them over.

They all began to cross, Alistair making sure Ayla went before him, just in case the bridge decided to give out on the last person. Fortunately, though, they all made it across without incident. He sighed in relief as he made it across last. "Maker's breath. Andraste only favoured the clever, it seems."

"That was exciting!" Leliana squealed from in front of him. "Can we do it again?"

Aedan rolled his eyes at her. "Sure, go back and forth across it as many times as you like. Meanwhile, I'm going to see what's through the last door."

They all followed him through the doorway, Leliana included, which led to a long hallway that finally opened into a large room with an immense vaulted ceiling. A plain stone altar stood immediately inside the door. A few feet beyond it lay an unbroken wall of flames, blocking their way into the remainder of the room. Alistair could spot a set of stairs beyond the flames, at the far end of the room, leading up to a massive, beautiful statue and altar. That had to be where the ashes were, he thought.

"Powerful magic, indeed," Morrigan observed, staring at the wall of flames. "How are we meant to get beyond here?"

"There's something written on the altar, here," Aedan replied, stopping in front of the stone altar. After a moment, he began to read, "Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight."

"A riddle, this time," Alistair remarked. "But what is it supposed to mean?"

"Hmm." Leliana tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I believe it means that we are to remove our equipment. The 'trappings of worldly life' probably mean our armor and weapons and such. Even a king and a slave would be equal when they wear nothing, yes?"

Aedan regarded her for a moment before nodding. "I think you're right. 'Cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit' probably means that you would have nothing else to cloak yourself in. So we must have to take off our equipment and walk through the flames to be 'born anew'. Might as well give it a try, anyway."

Alistair frowned. Did Aedan really mean what he thought he meant? He looked over to Ayla on his left to see what she thought, and was astonished to see her placing her swords on the ground before undoing the laces of her drakescale armor. "Whoa! W – what are you doing?" he hissed, face flaming.

She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows with an amused smile passing across her face. "What Leliana said we should do – removing my equipment. It's not like you've never seen me naked before."

"Th-that's not the point," he stammered. The point was he hadn't made love to her for over a week now, not since they'd entered the mountains, and he had already felt as though he was close to exploding with his want for her. That look she'd given him earlier hadn't helped either, and if she were to undress in front of him now, he couldn't be sure he'd be able to maintain his control, whether or not all their friends were there. "It's – I – nobody _else_ has seen – it's not –" he couldn't find the words to make a coherent sentence.

"It will be fine, Alistair," she brushed off his worry as she continued to undo the many laces, the sounds behind them indicating the others were in the process of removing their weapons and armor as well. "It's the last thing we have to do to get the ashes, we might as well get it over with."

Alistair suddenly noticed that Zevran, who was on Ayla's other side, was watching her with fascination as he removed his own leather armor. He scowled and moved around Ayla, blocking her from Zevran's view. "Don't you dare look at her," he snapped. He could hear Ayla sigh behind him, but she made no further comment.

The elf raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "Would you rather I look at you instead?"

"I – what – no!" Alistair exclaimed, unbelievably flustered. "Don't look at either of us! If you have to look, look at one of the others – Aedan or somebody!"

"Hey!" Aedan protested from his spot behind them. "What do you think you're doing, offering me up to look at?!"

"Or we could all be mature about this and nobody looks at anybody," Leliana called in a tone of exasperation. "If you think you can manage that, of course, Zevran."

Zevran's smirk widened. "Alas, everyone wishes to spoil my enjoyment. But I assure you I can manage that if you all so wish. If it makes everyone feel better, I will stand in front so that there is no way I can see the rest of you."

"That would be wise, elf," Morrigan said bitingly.

Zevran shrugged and moved out a little ahead of them all, putting his back to them and continuing with removing his armor. The others were continuing to do the same as well, judging by the clanks of metal and rustles of fabric hitting the ground. He could also hear a low murmur of voices, leading him to believe that Aedan and Morrigan were probably talking to one another. With a sigh of defeat, he removed his sword and shield and began to undo the buckles that he could reach. He would just have to not look at Ayla at all, and think about other things to distract himself. How much he hated Loghain, for instance, or one of the Revered Mother's lectures.

After a moment, he heard Ayla's voice behind him. "Here, I'll help you with these. You won't get this ridiculous armor all the way off by yourself." He felt her nimble fingers working on the buckles and straps at his back as he continued at his front. He focused on keeping his breathing steady.

"Are you not even going to look in my direction?" Ayla asked softly, amusement in her voice as they got his upper armor off and on the ground, beginning to work on the lower portion.

"I can't," he mumbled, feeling his face turning red again as the rest of his armor dropped to the ground, and he began to remove the cotton tunic he wore beneath. "If I do, I might –" He hesitated, lowering his voice even further so that he was barely breathing out the words, knowing her sharp hearing would still pick it up – "lose any control I have left and take you right here."

He heard her sharp intake of breath behind him. "By the Goddess, Alistair . . ." she whispered weakly. "How am _I_ supposed to maintain control now?"

"Don't look at me either?" he suggested in a low voice, trying his hardest to ignore the ache of longing in his body from her words. He stripped off the last of his cotton undergarments and heard her groan softly, making his blood run hot. He gritted his teeth against the sensation.

"Right," she murmured breathlessly. "Not looking is probably a really good idea. Let's get through these flames _quickly_."

Alistair turned towards the flames, but made sure he focused on staring straight ahead, not turning to look at her or anyone else, and tried to keep his mind distracted again. Zevran must have already passed through, for he could no longer see him. He walked carefully forward towards the flames.

The heat radiating from them felt very real as he approached them, but reminding himself that Zevran must have passed through them just fine, he took a deep breath and stepped through. Even still, he closed his eyes as he expected to feel his skin starting to burn at any moment, but it barely felt warm as he passed through the flames.

Once he was through, however, he could feel the heat radiating at his back again. He saw Zevran was indeed on the other side already, his back to them still. Suddenly, he felt the heat at his back disappear at the same moment that the Guardian reappeared in front of them, meaning that the others must have all passed through the flames as well.

"You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet; you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim. Approach the sacred ashes," the Guardian commanded, before he disappeared again.

"Should I continue to wait here until you're all dressed again?" Zevran called wryly, still not turning around.

"Yes, that would probably be best," Leliana called, amusement lacing her tone, from somewhere off to Alistair's right.

"Let's get this awkwardness over with quickly," Aedan agreed, "so we can get the ashes and move on."

Alistair turned back around, making sure to turn in the opposite direction from where he knew Ayla was standing, and quickly headed back to the pile of his equipment. He could see her armor sitting just to the side of his as he stopped and quickly began pulling his smallclothes and cotton undergarments back on. He waited for the armor, however, knowing he would need help with it.

After a few minutes, at the same moment Aedan called to Zevran that they were all decent enough for him to come back and dress himself, Ayla came around in front of him, fully dressed, smiling ruefully at him as she went to help him on with his armor. "Well, that was surprisingly difficult," she chuckled softly as they began buckling the armor on together.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling embarrassed at his lack of control. "It's just – it seems like it's been forever since we've last been together and, well . . ." he trailed off, shrugging.

"No, don't be sorry," she told him, tugging a strap tight. "I know exactly what you mean. I'm feeling a bit on the verge of losing it myself."

He sighed, relieved that she understood and felt the same way, although that didn't really help his self-control any. "We need to get back off this mountain quickly."

She nodded in agreement as they finished up the last of his armor. "It cannot happen soon enough."

"All right, let's get going," Aedan called as Alistair picked up his sword and shield. He was relieved when he looked around to note that everyone was fully dressed again, although he still felt a bit flustered and awkward. But at least he hadn't seen anything he shouldn't have.

They all made their way across the room towards the stairs. The statue at the top, Alistair could see now that they were closer, was that of a robed woman, her head held high, one hand over her heart, with a flame burning in the other hand. A large, ornate gold urn sat on the altar before the statue. When they reached the top of the stairs, Aedan approached the Urn while the rest of them hung back, merely watching.

There was a certain peace and serenity that seemed to surround the statue and the Urn, draining all the tension and stress out of Alistair and making him feel truly relaxed for the first time in days. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he watched Aedan open the Urn, murmuring to Ayla, "I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place – but here – here She is."

"Yes, we found it at last," Ayla whispered back to him. "I don't fully understand how the rest of you must feel about it, but I can feel the serenity here. It feels like the Starwood Point at home – a relaxing and . . . important place."

He nodded, pleased she understood, even as Morrigan completely ruined the moment by drawling scornfully, "I stand in awe. Really."

This was followed shortly by Zevran remarking caustically, "Nice vase. I should get one for my house."

"Oh, how can you two be like that?" Leliana exclaimed as she looked up at the statue, her eyes bright and her hands clasped in front of her. "I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes . . . I . . . I have no words to express –" She trailed off, sighing in happiness.

Meanwhile, Aedan had taken a pinch of the ashes out of the Urn and put them in a leather pouch, pulling the drawstring tight and tucking it in the larger pouch where he, like Alistair, kept his healing potions. "Well, we've succeeded in finding the ashes at last," he said, heading back over to the rest of them. "Let's hope they work the way they're supposed to. We need to get back to Redcliffe as soon as we can and try them out."

"Right," Alistair nodded in agreement. "I just – I hope that the Arl manages to hang on until we get back there. We've been gone for a long time."

"We'll have to hope that whatever that demon did to keep him alive, that it lasts the week or so it will take until we can get back," Aedan replied. "There is nothing else we can do."

He headed down the stairs, the others following. Ayla smiled at Alistair reassuringly as they reached the bottom. "I am certain your Arl will be fine. We would not have managed to find the ashes if there was no purpose to it."

She said the last with such conviction that Alistair couldn't help but feel better. How did she always manage to make his heart lighter? He smiled down at her and squeezed her hand in his as they followed Aedan. There was a door tucked in an alcove off to the side of the stairs, which Aedan headed over to. Upon opening the door, they found it led them right back out onto the mountain.

It looked to be late afternoon as they all exited onto the mountain, the sun hanging low in the sky, and the air was still quite cool. They made their way back over to the ruined tower where their camp lay. Ayla made a beeline for the cloak she'd left behind at their campsite, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders.

"Did you succeed?" Wynne asked as they all trooped back into the remains of the tower, gathering up their supplies.

"Finally, yes," Aedan answered her. "We got a pinch of the ashes, so let's get going back down the mountain. I think we should be able to get back to that room inside the tunnels we stayed in the other night before we need to stop to rest, so pack up, everybody."

"Does this mean we can finally resume fighting the Blight?" Sten demanded as he began to pack up his things as well.

Aedan sighed. "Yes, Sten, as soon as we get back to Redcliffe and see the Arl, we will go to Orzammar to get the last of our troops so we can fight the Blight. Then you can see as many darkspawn as you like."

The qunari merely grunted in response as they all packed up the camp. Once done, they made their way over to the entrance to the tunnels that led back to the first temple. The going was a lot easier now that there were no more cultists and they had a fairly good idea of where everything was. They made their way without incident back to the room they had used to rest in the other night.

After a brief meal of the breads, cheeses and dried meats they had in their packs, they all went to lie down for the night. Alistair had taken first watch again, as he usually did, and set himself up in front of the entrance to the room, sitting with his back to the others, wrapping his own cloak around his shoulders. He wasn't overly cold, but he knew it would only get colder during the night, and they had only a very small fire going.

He heard footsteps approaching him after a few minutes. He glanced behind him to see Ayla making her way over to him. "What are you doing up?" he asked her softly.

"It's too cold without you," she grumbled in a low voice, her cloak still tightly wrapped around her body. "Even with your plate armor on, you're still much warmer than the cave floor."

He grinned, opening up his own cloak and she crawled into his lap, leaning against his chest. He tucked his cloak back around her, wrapping his arms around her as well. "Better?"

"Getting there," she sighed, laying her head against his chest.

It was a good thing he did still have his armor on, he mused as she snuggled up against him. This would be nothing short of torture without a layer between him and her body; it was hard enough as it was. He might as well distract himself by asking what her father had said to her in the Gauntlet. He had been curious ever since she'd mentioned that she'd seen him for real.

He wasn't quite sure how to bring it up, though. He didn't want to make her cry, because it tore him up inside every time she did, even when he wasn't the cause of her tears. Maybe he could lead up to it slowly, he decided. "Ayla, would you mind telling me more about your world? I know a few things, but . . . can you tell me what it was like growing up there?"

She tilted her head to look up at him. "I guess I haven't told you a lot about my life there, have I? I suppose it is only fair, since you've told me so much about your life before we met. Where do you want me to start?"

He considered it, trying to think of a specific question that he had. "Oh, I know. Remember when you said you were used to a life on the road? Well, I was just wondering, didn't you have a home, being that your family is a noble one?"

"Oh, of course we did," she nodded. "The Trichlor clan, like the other noble clans, has a vast ancestral home where all of the clan members live. But we were probably only there about half the time when I was growing up."

"But, why?" he asked, confused. "Why would you be on the road so much as a child?"

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before looking back up at him. "Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning, it would be easier for you to understand. Do you remember that I mentioned my mother died when I was very young?"

He nodded. He'd made a point of memorizing the few details of her life she had offered up to him so far. She had only mentioned her mother the once, when she first told him about her family, and had not brought it up since then, but he'd remembered it as something they had in common, losing their mothers at a young age.

"I was only about two or three when she died of an illness that even the Master Healer couldn't cure," Ayla continued softly, leaning her head against his chest again. "I don't remember her at all. Mardin remembers a few things, since he's four years older than I am, but not a lot. Anyway, by the time she died, my father was Captain of the Order already, so he often had to leave home to go out on missions and patrols. At first, when that happened, Father left us with a nanny or one of our uncles. But eventually, he decided he just couldn't trust anyone else to look after us."

"Why not?" Alistair asked. "Didn't he trust his own brothers?"

"I don't think it was so much that he didn't trust them," Ayla replied slowly, "as it was that he didn't trust them to raise us the way he would. You see, my uncles aren't in the Order, and Uncle Corran, the older of the two, took the Trichlor clan's seat on the council. So he and Father were both on the council, and they often disagreed on political matters. Anyway, with both of his brothers being courtiers, the three of them rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything, so they began to grow apart. I think he didn't want us growing up with their views, not his. And no matter how many nannies he tried, he could never agree with any of them, either."

"He sounds like he was very . . . opinionated," Alistair observed, grinning down at her.

She laughed, nodding in response. "He certainly was that. Whatever the reason for it was, he began to take us with him whenever he left home, unless it happened to be a particularly dangerous battle he was going to. So we literally grew up on the road. When he was home, so were we, but any time he left, we went with him."

"Wasn't that dangerous, though?" Alistair tried to imagine travelling on the road with such young children, and couldn't think how of any safe way for it to work.

Ayla shrugged. "I suppose it probably was, but it never seemed like it to us. I can never really remember a time when I was ever afraid anything would happen to me. We always had other members of the Order with us, too, so we were surrounded by skilled warriors. In some ways, it was probably the safest place for us to be. Anyway, we spent so much time on the road travelling, that I feel just as much at home in a tent on the road as I do anywhere else."

He nodded, thinking about where he felt most at home. Redcliffe had been his home as a young child, but he had never felt truly welcome there; and certainly he had never felt the monastery was his home, either. Being on the road with the Grey Wardens, both before and now, with Ayla, was probably the most at home he'd ever felt.

"I think . . . I would say the same," he replied softly. "Being on the road feels like home for me, too, especially now." He smiled down at her, his heart warmed when she smiled at him in return. Knowing she felt the same way about him was still so incredible at times that it was difficult to wrap his mind around.

"One other thing I was curious about," he went on, after a moment, "if you grew up with the Order, did you have a choice about becoming a warrior? Like, would your father have disapproved if you'd chosen otherwise?"

She blinked, seeming to consider her answer. "Well, I suppose I didn't have a choice when it came to training as a child. Since we were on the road, my father began our training at a younger age than usual. I was already beginning basic sword training around the age of five, I think. He wanted to make sure that if somehow anyone did get through the others to us, that Mardin and I had some idea of how to defend ourselves. But if I had chosen not to join the Order? I think he would have been fine with that. He might have been a little disappointed, but I believe at times he would have rather had me far away from the battlefield."

"He likely would have been disappointed if Mardin had chosen differently, though," Ayla continued. "Even though women are allowed in the Orders back home, there are far fewer of us that join the warrior Order than the mage or archer Orders. Less front line fighting in the other ones, and there are less women willing to become shifters, as well. So while Father would likely have not minded me choosing to join the court, he probably would have been much more disappointed to have his only son choose to do so."

Alistair nodded. "I suppose that would make sense. Were those your only choices, though? Join the order or join the court?"

"Yes, I suppose they were," she answered slowly. "As a daughter of the Clan of Swords, there were really only two ways for me to go. I never really thought about it that way, since I never wanted to do anything besides join the Order."

"The Clan of Swords?" He didn't think he'd ever heard her use that term before, he realized, looking at her curiously. "What does that mean?"

"Oh," she smiled, shaking her head. "Sorry, I guess that is a bit confusing. Most of the clans, particularly the older and more 'noble' ones, have secondary names indicating what they're famous for. The Trichlor clan is known as the Clan of Swords, since our founding members were warriors and there have been warriors throughout most of the clan's history. The royal family is the Clan of Kings, of course, and there are other ones, the Clan of Archers, the Clan of Mages, and so on. But with those names come certain expectations, as well."

"Like with any noble family, I suppose," Alistair agreed. "So your father wouldn't have let you become a merchant or an innkeeper or anything like that?" he asked teasingly.

"No," she laughed. "I doubt he would have even accepted a merchant or an innkeeper for my life-mate. If I wasn't going to be a warrior myself, my life-mate would certainly have to be one. But I doubt I could have been with a man that couldn't fight, anyway, no matter what my father thought."

He couldn't stop himself from asking, though he was afraid to hear the answer, and maybe it was too soon to ask. "Would your father have accepted me, do you think?"

She cupped his cheek, smiling up at him with a tender expression he didn't think he'd ever seen her wear before. "Actually, I know he would have. It's one of the things he told me, in the Gauntlet."

His heart leapt at her words. He could hardly believe it; her father had actually accepted him? And for her father to have said that, it must mean she was considering him as a choice for her – what had she called it? Life-mate? She had said she loved him, but he had not really thought beyond that, to whether she would want to marry him or not. He assumed this life-mate concept she spoke of must be the same thing as marriage. He couldn't believe the overwhelming happiness he felt that she might even be considering it, or that her father accepted him, when his own father never had.

He realized after a moment that this also gave him the opening to ask the one question he'd most wanted to ask. "I'm . . . really glad to hear it," he told her at last. "I am . . . honoured that he would accept me like that. Do you mind . . . sharing what else he told you?"

She looked down for a moment, and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes, which tore at his heart, making him feel guilty for pressing her. "Mostly what you might expect," she replied softly. "That he loved me and was proud of me and it wasn't my fault. But he also had a message for me, from the Goddess, about my destiny."

Alistair listened, in a state of disbelief, as she explained everything her father had told her, about the balance of Thedas and how the Goddess and Her followers, one of whom was apparently the Maker as they knew him, had been shut out. She went on to explain that she had been allowed the choice to stay if she wanted it, since her destiny now lay here, in this world.

"I'm supposed to help restore the balance," she finished. "And, well, there are some other aspects to my destiny here, too." She wasn't quite looking him in the eye, and she didn't elaborate on these other aspects, so he decided not to press her further.

"That's – wow." He shook his head, trying to process everything she'd just told him. "That means the story about the mages and the Black City, and the creation of the darkspawn, is actually true! And the Maker didn't actually abandon us, but has been shut out. It's all very hard to believe, but . . . I guess it does all make sense. Especially the part about the imbalance. That must be why so many bad things have happened lately."

"Yes," she nodded. "I had noticed how unnatural things were here, so I felt it made sense as well. Anyway, I told my father that my decision was to stay here."

He snapped his gaze down to her, his eyes widening. "You're – you're going to stay here? You're not going home and leaving Ferelden?"

"No," she shook her head, smiling at him. "I'm going to stay. Ferelden is going to be my home from now on."

His heart leapt again, with indescribable relief and joy. She was going to stay. She was not going to leave him to go back home to some other world where he couldn't follow. He hugged her tightly to him, wanting to kiss her but knowing if he did he wouldn't stop. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that," he murmured into her hair. "I was afraid you would just leave one day, whether you wanted to or not, and I wouldn't be able to stop it."

"I was afraid of that too," she confessed, flushing as she looked away, not meeting his eyes. "I was so relieved when my father told me the choice was mine. I'm happy I get to stay here . . . with you."

His heart was so full he thought it might burst to hear her say that. Having her in his arms like this was so much better when he knew that she was as happy to be in them as he was to have her there. And now he knew for certain, that if they got through the Blight in one piece, that his dream had a chance of coming true. He might just get to keep her with him, always. He was, for the first time he could remember, truly happy, and he told her so, as they spent the rest of his watch talking in low voices about anything else that they could think of. When his watch was up, he went to sleep with her in his arms again, determined now that he would never let her go.


	29. Return to Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way back to Redcliffe, Alistair and Ayla finally have some time alone together; the Wardens discover that the archdemon can feel them when their camp is attacked by shrieks in the middle of the night; the party returns to Redcliffe to use the ashes on Arl Eamon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is smut in this chapter at the beginning, please skip down to the first break if you don't want to read it.

Chapter 29: Return to Redcliffe

Reaching the base of the mountain fortunately took a good deal less time than it had taken them to go up in the first place, likely made easier by the fact that for once nothing went wrong. The group had parted from Brother Genitivi a few hours ago as he made his way to Denerim while they continued on to Redcliffe. They had finally stopped to make camp in the spacious forest at the base of the mountain when the sun had begun to set.

Ayla was now currently searching for a spot well away from where the camp was set up so that she and Alistair might finally have some private time. Neither of them had a watch tonight, and she was determined that she was not going to wait any longer. They had yet to track down Bodahn to get their tents back, as he'd gone travelling to nearby towns while they were in the mountain, so finding somewhere out of sight was the next best thing.

She stopped at a small clearing, glancing around. It was secluded, surrounded by large trees, and still fairly close to the others, yet not so close that she could hear them. This would do perfectly, she decided, because she had no intentions of holding back. She'd done enough of that over the last several days.

She had never been quite as desperate with want as she was right at this moment, she thought as she began to head back to find Alistair. Not that she had ever spent so much time in the constant presence of a man she wanted without having the time or privacy to act on it, of course. She was also unused to the intensity of the feelings that she had for Alistair, which only made control that much more difficult.

She thought she'd been managing fairly well, all things considered, up until that moment in the Gauntlet where they'd all had to undress. She had been happily enjoying the sight of his marvellously sculpted backside and the strength of the muscles in his back that he'd kept turned to her, until the moment he'd confessed how close he was to losing control. That one statement had swamped her with such desire she'd almost lost the ability to breathe, and she had been forced to turn away in order to calm herself down.

Since then, though they had sat together and slept in each other's arms, they had, by unspoken agreement, not kissed once on the way back down. Ayla was afraid it would have been like a stray spark to dry tinder if he'd kissed her, and he must have felt the same way, for he had not tried once. And now, she was at the breaking point. It was going to happen tonight, and that was all there was to it.

She decided to check the stream by the camp first. They had also decided not to wash up together, since the stream was far too close to the others for comfort. She'd cleaned up first and gone on her search, leaving Alistair to take his turn while she was gone. He should be nearly done by now, she thought. It was nearing dark, but there was still enough light left to see by in the gathering gloom of dusk, and it was a clear night, as well. There would be plenty of moonlight and starlight later.

She grinned as a sudden idea occurred to her, just before she broke through the trees to see the stream opposite. As she'd suspected, Alistair was just leaving, wearing his cotton tunic and leggings with his hair still damp. He saw her coming and he smiled, his face lighting in a way that made her heart jump. "There you are. Did you . . find a good spot?"

She halted a few feet away from him, nodding. "I did."

He raised his eyebrows when she said nothing further, taking a step towards her. She took a step back, grinning. He paused, looking torn between confusion and amusement. "What _are_ you doing? Come here."

She shook her head, her grin widening. "If you want me, you'll have to catch me first." She whirled and ran, laughing as she went back the way she'd come.

She heard his surprised curse behind her before she picked up the sound of his footsteps following her. She wasn't running at her full speed, since even without shifting she was pretty fast, and she didn't actually want to lose him before they got to the clearing. She wasn't counting on feeling his fingers brush the back of her tunic before they were even halfway there, however.

She started with shock before speeding up. She hadn't thought he was that fast, but she supposed she shouldn't really be surprised. She had noticed before that he wasn't as slow in battle as she would expect from somebody burdened with heavy armor and a shield; since he was now not wearing either, he would only be that much faster.

So she ran flat out, dodging between the trees and laughing breathlessly, enjoying the thrill of the chase. Eventually she broke through into the clearing, and was only a few feet in when a strong arm wrapped around her waist, halting her progress completely. She squealed in surprise as he yanked her back against his warm, solid body, wrapping his other arm tight around her as well. "I've got you now," he breathed into her ear, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

She twisted around in his arms so she could face him. While he allowed her enough room to turn, he didn't give her any room to move away from him, not that she wanted to. When she looked up into his eyes, the hunger in them made her heart beat double time. She slid her hands up to rest on his chest. "So you do. What are you going to do with me, then?"

"Well," he replied slowly, his face reddening slightly, though the hunger in his gaze didn't waver, "I have . . . sort of had this fantasy about . . . taking you up against a tree."

"Oh?" She tilted her head, grinning broadly at him. "Have I so corrupted my once virginal Templar that he's now having dirty thoughts about me?"

"Yes, my lady, you have corrupted me beyond belief," he said with wry amusement. "And that didn't sound like a no," he added.

She pressed herself into him, leaning up to say, "Alistair, it will never be a no. Now what are you waiting for?"

His answer was the sudden descent of his lips onto hers as he tightened his grip to haul her even closer. The first taste of his tongue as it slipped into her mouth was indeed like a spark to tinder, setting her entire body aflame. She snaked her arms around his neck, kissing him back with all her built-up longing and passion.

He growled into her mouth and cupped her buttocks, making her moan as he lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist to maintain her balance as he suddenly pulled away from the kiss and walked her backwards until her back hit a nearby tree trunk.

He braced one hand against the tree by her head, the other one straying to her waist and sliding under her tunic as he bent his head and nipped her neck just below her jaw. "You make me crazy," he mumbled against her skin as he trailed his mouth down. "I feel like I'm going to explode when I'm around you."

She arched and rubbed against him, revelling in the fact that he was already hard for her, that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him right now. "The feeling is completely mutual," she whispered into his ear as his mouth reached the collar of her tunic.

He grunted in frustration, pulling back and setting her down on her feet. Guessing his aim, she pulled her tunic off over her head. They quickly shed their clothes, and as soon as they were both undressed, he picked her up off her feet and pressed her back against the tree. One of his hands slipped between their bodies and stroked her folds, making her shudder as heat lanced through her. She held onto his broad shoulders tightly as she wrapped her legs around him again and leaned in to tongue the shell of his ear and nip his earlobe.

"As you are mine," she gasped breathlessly into his ear as one of his fingers circled her nub, "I am yours. So take me any way that you – ahhh!" she cried out, half in shock, half in ecstasy as he suddenly buried himself in her in one swift thrust, slamming her against the tree. She shuddered with relief at the feeling of him filling her so completely, a sensation she had missed so desperately over the past several days.

She barely even registered the pain of continually hitting the tree as he set a swift, brutal pace, one hand braced against the trunk of the tree as the other was against her back, keeping her tightly in place. She dug her nails into his shoulders and kept her legs firmly around him, meeting his every thrust. They had never exactly been gentle with each other, but Alistair was being rougher than usual, nipping at her everywhere he could reach as he drove into her.

Not that she minded; she found his loss of control utterly arousing, her desire spiralling higher and burning hotter with every moment. She couldn't stop the involuntary noises spilling out of her with every movement of his hips and touch of his mouth, and she could feel her body starting to shake as her release came closer.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark as his tongue brushed over her nipple, causing her to moan. "I love the noises you make," he told her, his voice breathless and rough with lust. "Moan for me," he nipped at her breast, "scream for me. Say that you're mine again."

_Oh, Goddess_. The fresh jolt of desire from his words nearly sent her over the edge. "I'm yours, Alistair," she panted, "all yours. I only want you."

He kissed her fiercely at her words, never breaking his rhythm, as his hand left the tree and squeezed her breast, his thumb flicking over her nipple. That was the last straw; her release hit her, stars bursting behind her closed eyelids as she tilted her head back, breaking the kiss, and cried out.

"Maker, Ayla," he groaned as, in the throes of her release, she squeezed him tightly. She felt his thrusts go erratic before he exploded, pressing her hard against the tree as he emptied himself deep inside her, even as her body shuddered through its aftershocks. He leaned against her for a long moment, his face buried in her neck, as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Finally, he stumbled backwards from the tree, bringing her with him as he lowered himself onto the ground to lie down. She unwrapped her legs from his waist and lay across his chest, snuggled into his embrace, utterly content and at peace.

His hands were now infinitely gentle as he stroked her skin and brushed her hair back from her face. One hand suddenly stalled as it moved across her back and found a scrape oozing from the contact with the tree. "Oh, Maker's breath, Ayla, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed.

Ayla propped herself up enough to look at him; his hazel eyes were back to their normal color, though full of guilt now. "Sorry about what?"

"I – I was so rough . . . your back . . . I don't know what I was thinking. I've just . . . been wanting you so badly, and when you said you were mine, I - I'm so sorry . . ." Anxious guilt was etched in every line of his face as the words tumbled over one another out of his mouth.

"Stop," she ordered him, clapping a hand over his mouth. "You were rough, yes, but I loved it. That I can make you lose your control like that is incredibly arousing, believe me."

He pulled her hand away gently, his eyes wide. "Oh . . . so you . . . don't mind when I'm rough with you?"

She shook her head, smiling fondly at him. "Not in the slightest. I hope you don't mind if I'm rough with you, either. I know I tend to bite and scratch you . . ." She shrugged, trailing off.

"No, actually, I . . ." his face reddened a bit again as he ran a hand over his hair. "I find it . . . arousing, too. I - well, I . . . like it when you bite me. I wouldn't even mind if you wanted to do it a little . . . harder." His face was flaming red by the time he finished his sentence.

Ayla grinned, pleased that they were so on the same page with this. She'd never really been one for gentle, loving mating. Every once in a while was fine, of course, but she generally preferred a rough, tempestuous union. To hear that her life-mate was the same was far more than she could have ever hoped for. "I will happily oblige," she murmured, trailing a hand down his abdomen before sinking her teeth into his chest.

"Ah . . ." he sucked in a breath, his hand that was currently on her waist tightening as he arched up a little. "Ayla . . ."

She bit her way across his chest, deliberately hard as requested, as her hand trailed further down the muscles and contours of his stomach, until she found her target. Her eyes widened as she found him hardening even as her hand reached him. "Already?" she looked up at him incredulously.

He chuckled breathlessly, letting out a little moan as she stroked him. "Grey Warden stamina, remember? A Warden who has been . . . oh . . . sorely deprived . . . over the past week or more. I have . . . ahh . . . a lot of stamina built up . . . for you."

"Do you now?" she asked laughingly as she continued her long, slow strokes, making his hips rise involuntarily in time with her movements. "It would be a shame to waste any of that."

He reached down to grab her hand, halting her. "It would. But . . . I believe you promised to ride me into oblivion, didn't you? I think my punishment should be over by now."

She tilted her head, pretending to consider as she tapped her other hand against her chin, watching him as he looked up at her. When he gave her his puppy dog eyes, she couldn't help but laugh. "All right, I suppose you've been punished enough."

She pushed herself up with her hands and, getting into position, sank down onto him in one fluid movement. They both groaned aloud when he was fully inside her again. She could not believe it had taken her so long to realize that she loved him, she thought as she lifted up again and slid down, rolling her hips as she did so. The feel of him in her was so much more intense, better, and _right_ than it had ever been before with any other man. The bards spoke truly; it really was better when you were in love.

"I love you," she said suddenly, unable to contain the feeling any longer as she began to pick up her pace.

His eyes had been shut, but they flew open at her remark, wide with surprise. He broke into that beautiful smile that tugged at her heart. "I love you, too, Ayla, so much I can't even . . ."

She interrupted him by slowing her movements to lean over and kiss him tenderly and thoroughly. She pulled back after a long moment. "I know; I feel the same." She began to rise up slowly only to slam down with a roll of her hips. After a few moments, as he panted and groaned beneath her, he seized her hips in his hands and began to move her faster, until she had to brace herself on his chest with her hands to keep from falling.

"Alistair," she rebuked him breathlessly, although really she didn't mind, "I'm supposed to be the one setting the pace here, remember?"

"I can't . . . wait any longer," he groaned as his fingers tightened on her hips, pulling her down hard again. One hand left her hip to drift over the swell of her bottom and squeeze hard. She gasped at the aching throb in her loins from the simple touch.

"I need you now," he growled, his hand returning to her hip to move her again. "Right now. You can ride me slower again later."

She chuckled softly. "As my poor deprived Warden wishes. Ohh," she moaned lowly as he hit just the right spot to create a delicious sensation. "Alistair . . . let's . . . break our record from last time . . . shall we?"

"Gladly, my lady," he gasped as he began to buck up to meet her hips as he pulled them down. "We have . . . a lot of time . . . to make up for."

And make up for it they did, as they spent the rest of that night testing the limits of each other's stamina, before falling into an exhausted sleep just before dawn.

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The rumble of the archdemon's voice cut through Alistair's head, reverberating throughout his body. Try as he might, he still couldn't make out a single thing it was saying as it seemingly addressed the horde below. He could feel the heavy, sickening pressure all up and down his spine that meant he was surrounded by darkspawn, more than he could conceivably count, as they shrieked in response to the archdemon.

Suddenly, the archdemon flew up in the air, away from the horde, and let out an earth-shaking roar as it landed on a mountain, its head snaking around so that its yellow eyes pierced right through him. _It's coming – it's coming!_

He jerked awake in the next moment, sitting up in the tent, panting and trying to catch his breath. His whole body was shaking with reaction, and he could still feel the pressure on his spine and the pounding of his head from the archdemon's voice. It had been a while since he'd had a darkspawn dream – not since he'd started sleeping in the same tent as Ayla, actually. But this one – it was more than just a dream. He could feel it.

Ayla was sitting up next to him, her hand on his arm, her eyes bright with worry as she looked at him. "What is it, Alistair? Another nightmare?"

"I – yes," he answered, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. "I have to go talk to Aedan. Something – something wasn't right about it."

She nodded as he gently dislodged her hand and scrambled to his feet, pulling on his boots before he went to exit the tent. He was only wearing his leggings at the moment, as she was wearing his tunic, but he didn't care. He pushed aside the tent flap and went out into the night. The moon was nearly full, and the night sky was clear, so it was fairly easy to see in the camp, between that and the low-burning light of the fire in the middle.

He could see Aedan coming towards him from his tent as soon as he stood up, a wild look in his grey eyes. He was also only wearing leggings and boots, his dark hair mussed from sleep as he hurried across the campsite towards Alistair.

"You're awake!" Alistair exclaimed, meeting him halfway. "Did you . . . did you feel it too?"

Aedan nodded grimly. "I did. The roar – it . . ." he shook his head and winced, rubbing his temples.

"Not just that - it was like the archdemon saw us! Saw us!" Alistair couldn't shake the memory of the archdemon looking right at him, something it had never done before. "What does that mean? I think –"

He stopped when he heard the tent flap rustle behind him. He turned to see Ayla come hurrying out of the tent, still barefoot and dressed only in his tunic, which was fortunately long enough on her to nearly reach her knees. She was carrying his sword and shield, which she shoved into his hands. "Something's coming," she said before he could even ask. "Aedan, get your sword. Now!"

Aedan whirled around and headed back for his own tent without question, shouting for the others to wake up. As he did so, Alistair saw the shimmer pass through Ayla's body, and in the next second the panther was standing there where she had been. He didn't think he would ever get used to that, no matter how many times he saw it.

He heard it at that exact moment; the eerie, blood-curdling scream that could only mean one thing. "Shrieks!" he yelled, shifting his sword and shield into place just as the camp was suddenly swarmed with the stealthy, fast-moving darkspawn.

How had he missed them coming? he wondered furiously. He blocked a swing from a shriek in front of him and lashed out with his sword, only catching it on the arm. He dodged aside as it swung at him again. Had the dream left him so stunned and disoriented he hadn't been able to sense them? He could sense them now; there were a dozen of them, spread throughout the camp, attacking their party.

He rolled to the right just in time to avoid a blow from behind, using his shield to block another attack from the shriek still in front of him. Ayla leapt past him onto the one that had been behind him. He shot to his feet, lunging forward with his sword and running the other one through, following up by removing its head.

He could hear the sounds of battle all around him as he engaged another one, and could feel spells flying through the air as Morrigan and Wynne fought back against the shrieks. He tried to block the strike of another one, but was a little too slow as it managed to rake its claws across his chest. He hissed at the painful sensation, but managed to slice a blow of his own across its chest in return. An arrow sprouted of the creature's forehead before he could finish it off, and it fell forward to the ground.

He turned around just in time to see Ayla bring another one to the ground; he moved past her and caught the full weight of a leaping shriek on his shield as it tried to jump on her back. He staggered backwards, but was able to keep his footing as he stabbed it from behind. Yanking his sword out, he slit its throat, and it fell to the ground as well.

He brought his shield up again and turned in a slow circle, but didn't see any more immediately nearby. All around the campsite, the others were finishing off the remaining shrieks. Sten was the only one wearing full armor; the shrieks must have attacked during his watch. Fortunately, nobody looked seriously hurt.

Ayla changed back right in front of him, standing over top of the body of the last shriek she'd defeated. She hurried over to him, her brow furrowed with concern. "You're hurt!"

Alistair looked down at the scrapes across his chest; they were bleeding a decent amount, but they didn't feel too deep. Of far more concern to him at the moment was what had just happened - what he had just _let_ happen. He shrugged. "I'm fine. It's just a few scratches."

She stared at him for a few seconds, frowning before she turned and began heading back to the fire, calling over her shoulder, "Well, at least come and sit down until someone can heal you, then."

He followed her over there, setting his sword and shield down before he sat down himself. She sat next to him, and one by one, the others returned to the fire as well. Aedan was the last to reach it and sit down as Morrigan and Wynne began moving around the fire, checking and healing injuries. Aedan rubbed a hand over his face before looking at Alistair. "What exactly happened just now? Was that because of the archdemon? They've never found one of our camps before."

Alistair thought it over before nodding. "I think it was the archdemon. I felt like it saw me, in the dream." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I guess it's like Duncan once said: we can sense them, and they can sense us. We'd best be more careful from now on. We're not safe in these camps anymore."

He felt Ayla's hand lace through his and she squeezed it gently. He returned the pressure gratefully. "We should probably all sleep in our armor from now on," she added softly. "Whether we have our tents up or not."

Sten was standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest as he watched the mages heal everyone else. "Fortifications should be built around the camps when we stop for the night. Or perhaps we should set traps."

"It will be harder to sleep here from now on," Wynne said quietly as she reached Alistair, beginning a healing spell and laying her hand over the wound on his chest. It closed rapidly as the warmth of the spell flowed through him. When she was done, she stepped away and moved on after he'd thanked her.

"How unnerving!" Leliana exclaimed from across the fire. "Being attacked in the middle of the night like that!"

Zevran snorted. "They call that an ambush? Amateurs!" He dusted his hands off in obvious contempt before glancing over at Ayla. "By the way, my dear, may I say how lovely you look this evening?"

She laughed at him, shaking her head. "Why, because I'm hardly wearing anything?"

Alistair glared at Zevran, fury bubbling in him as he noticed that the elf's eyes were indeed fixed on the length of her bare legs below the tunic. "Why don't you look somewhere else?" he demanded.

Zevran smirked at him. "But why should I deprive myself of such a vision of loveliness?"

Ayla squeezed his hand again. "Relax, Alistair," she told him. "No harm done; it's just my legs."

Before he could reply, because he was still furious at the elf, Aedan stood up. "I think we do need to change our camp defences, in case the archdemon sends any more night-time surprises."

Alistair sighed, deciding to leave Zevran alone for now after sending a last warning glare at the smirking elf, before he turned his attention back to Aedan. "What do you suggest?" he asked.

"Well," Aedan replied, his brow furrowed as he considered it, "I think either you or I should be on watch at all times from now on, so we can sense the darkspawn before they attack. That dream dulled your senses, didn't it, because of the horde that you could sense in the dream?"

Alistair nodded, slowly. While Aedan was beginning to sense the darkspawn, he still didn't have a full handle on it, meaning that they largely relied on Alistair's abilities for detailed analysis. But even Aedan's limited senses would be better than nothing. "I didn't even notice them until they were here. So yes, that might be best."

"Wait a second!" Ayla protested. "You two cannot stay up half the night every night! If you're going to do that, at least split it into thirds and let me take one of the watches! I might not be a Warden, but I can still hear or see something coming before any of the others."

"All right, we'll do thirds," Aedan agreed after a moment. "And traps might be a good idea, also. Zevran, Leliana, do you think the two of you could come up with some simple traps for a perimeter?"

The rogues nodded as Morrigan suggested, "Perhaps some magical defences might be in order as well. I could come up with a few things, I am certain."

Aedan nodded. "The more we can have, the better. And it probably would be best if everyone keeps their armor on at all times while we're on the road. Alistair and I will keep watch for the rest of the night. We'll be arriving at Redcliffe tomorrow before dark, so we'll implement all this once we're on our way to Orzammar. Everybody else, try to get some rest now."

Everyone agreed with the new plan and began to make their way back to their tents for the night. Ayla stayed where she was for the moment, looking up at Alistair. "I can stay up with you two, if you'd like."

He shook his head, smiling down at her. "No, you should get some sleep. We'll be fine."

She studied him for a moment before sighing. "Well, if you're certain, I will go back to sleep. But if you two want a break, let me know."

"We will," he assured her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before letting her get up and go back to their tent.

He and Aedan remained at the fire for the moment, and once everyone was back in the tent, Alistair asked quietly, "Do you think I was right about the archdemon seeing us, being aware of us? Or was I just imagining things?"

Aedan shook his head, looking grim again. "No, I think you were right. That was a deliberate attack on us by the archdemon. It knows who we are and where we are now."

Alistair sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. All he could see in his mind's eye now was the archdemon roaring, staring right at him, and visions of Ayla and all the others dead. "You know how other people want to be right all the time? Me, not so much."

Aedan laughed, though it had a hollow ring to it. "I suppose it is a depressing thing to be right about. But don't worry; this new plan will make it a lot safer, I think. And after we get a couple of days' rest at Redcliffe, we'll head straight for Orzammar, get that last treaty fulfilled. Then we can get rid of that archdemon once and for all."

Alistair stared at his fellow Warden across the fire, trying to see just what he was thinking, but Aedan was as inscrutable as he almost always was, unless his family came up. "Do you really think we can do this? Do you really think we can defeat the Blight?"

"I do," Aedan replied firmly, conviction ringing clear in his voice. "We've come this far already. Once we have Arl Eamon back and the dwarves on our side, we will march on the darkspawn, and we _will_ succeed."

Alistair nodded slowly. "I hope you're right." There was no other way for them to go now, he knew that. He could only pray that it would all work out the way they wanted it to. If the ashes truly brought Arl Eamon back tomorrow, that would go a long way to making things right.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to Aedan's prediction, they reached the walls of Redcliffe Castle the next day, a few hours before sunset. It had been a cloudy, windy, cold, and generally depressing day, but fortunately without incident. They had not run into any more darkspawn after last night's attack, not even any bandits. Nonetheless, they were all relieved to have the prospect of a warm bath and soft beds for the first time in weeks.

Alistair, especially, was looking forward to the day in bed he'd promised Ayla they would have. After the night at the base of the mountains, which was by far the most incredible night he'd ever spent, they had only found time for a few more trysts together, and not more often than once a night. They had, after all, needed some sleep and to share in the watches after their rare night off. But here at Redcliffe, he would have her all to himself for a whole day if he had his way, and it was moments like that that made this entire thing worthwhile.

The guards at the gate hailed them as they approached, and once they saw who it was, scrambled to raise the gate for their party. They passed through the courtyard towards the main doors. Alistair noticed that things had improved quite a bit already since they had last been here; the courtyard had been cleaned up, and knights were practicing using the dummies along the wall. More guards stood at attention at the top of the stairs.

The party made their way to the great hall, where Teagan was waiting to receive them with Lady Isolde. Teagan got to his feet as they approached, looking both anxious and hopeful. "You return. Might you have news?"

Aedan stepped forward, bowing his head. "We do. We have found the Urn." He produced the ashes from the pouch on his belt.

Teagan's eyes widened as they zeroed in on the ashes Aedan held. "You have? Wonderful! Let us go at once to Eamon's side and let us see if the Urn's healing powers live up to their reputation!"

Teagan and Isolde led the way from the main hall up the stairs to Arl Eamon's room. Once they reached the room, Teagan hurried over to the canopied, four-poster bed. A mage had been seated next to the bed, watching over Arl Eamon. Teagan held a hurried, whispered conference with the mage while they all gathered around the room. Aedan handed the ashes to Teagan.

Alistair flinched when he finally got a good look at Arl Eamon. He was pale, haggard, his cheeks and closed eyes sunken in as he laid in the bed, looking for all the world as though he were already dead, had it not been for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He clenched his fists together, praying that the ashes would work. He could not lose the man who had helped raise him, not after everything else he had lost.

Ayla stepped up next to him, looping her arm through his in a silent show of support. He pulled her in tightly to his side, seeking comfort from her presence as the mage prepared himself at the foot of the bed. Teagan stood to the right side of the bed, hovering over his brother's body.

They all waited with baited breath as the mage chanted over Eamon's body while spreading the ashes in the air above it. Suddenly, strange purple light flowed in waves upwards from his body. Right before Alistair's eyes, color and life seemed to return to the Arl's face as he stirred and groaned. Could the ashes really be working? he wondered in disbelief and amazement. Could such a miracle really be possible? He hadn't thought so, and yet, the longer he looked, the more it seemed that they truly were working as promised.

The Arl's eyes slowly opened. He blinked and coughed, before choking out, "Wh – where am I?"

Teagan stepped closer quickly, laying a restraining hand on the Arl's arm. "Be calm, brother. You have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember nothing?"

The Arl's brows furrowed in confusion as they focused on his brother's face. "Teagan? What are you doing here? Where is Isolde?"

Lady Isolde, who had been standing back behind Teagan, moved up to his side, moving forward to take the Arl's hand in hers. "I am here, my husband."

"And Connor? Where is my boy? Where is our son?" the Arl persisted, sounding frightened. Alistair was relieved that they had succeeded in saving the boy; he didn't know how the Arl would have reacted otherwise.

"He lives," Lady Isolde reassured her husband, "though many others are dead. There is much to tell you, husband."

"Dead?" Arl Eamon closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "Then . . . it was not a dream?"

"Much has happened since you fell ill, brother," Teagan replied softly. "Some of it will not be . . . easy for you to hear."

"Then tell me," the Arl insisted. "I wish to hear all of it."

"As you wish, brother," Teagan replied. He turned back to their party. "But first, I am sure you are all exhausted. I will get servants to prepare you a warm meal, baths, and rooms while I fill my brother in. Then tomorrow morning, once we have all had time to rest, we will decide our plan of action."

Aedan nodded in agreement. "That sounds most fair. We would appreciate some time to rest. We have been travelling hard for a few weeks now."

"Of course," Teagan said. He signalled a maid over. "Please show our friends to the rooms that they used last time. Have baths drawn up for them and a meal prepared. Make sure the same is done for the Arl."

"Yes, my lord," the maid answered, curtseying before gesturing to their party to follow her.

They filed out of the room after her as they heard Teagan and Isolde began to talk to the Arl behind them. She led them to the guest wing on the second floor where they had stayed last time they were there, indicating to each of them which room they were to stay in. As before, there were enough rooms for them each to have their own, and it had been assigned that way as well.

"We will have baths brought up for each of you," the maid informed them, "and we will let you know as soon as the food is prepared. Until then, you may rest as you wish."

"Thank you," Aedan told her as the others split up and each went to their own rooms.

"You are most welcome, my lord," she replied, bobbing another curtsey before she went down the hall.

Aedan went into his room as well, leaving Alistair and Ayla alone in the hall. "It actually worked," Alistair said in amazement, still hardly able to wrap his mind around it. They had not only succeeded in finding the ashes, but they had actually worked to cure the Arl's illness. "I cannot believe it. The Arl is going to be okay."

"You see, I told you it would be all right," Ayla replied gently. She smiled, continuing on, "I suppose the Arl and everyone would be horribly scandalized if I insisted on sharing your room?"

Alistair grinned ruefully down at her. "Unfortunately, yes, I think they would be. Things are a little stricter here in Ferelden." As much as he would love to share a room with her as though they were a married couple, he could only imagine how the Arl would react once he found out. He had already known that their day in bed together would have to be conducted in secret, once they had ensured that no one would be looking for them. And most likely in her room, not his.

"Well, no matter," she said, shrugging. "I'll simply sneak into your room later after everyone has gone to sleep."

"Will you now?" he asked, both amused and pleased at her determination to do as she liked. "I look forward to it."

"Good," she winked at him, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "I'll see you at supper, then."

He nodded as they parted ways, each going into their own room. He set his sword and shield down, and began to remove his armor. After several days of wearing the new set of armor, he had finally figured out a method to get in and out of it without relying on outside help. He let out a sigh of relief as he worked. Arl Eamon was alive and well. He would know what to do about Loghain and the rest of Ferelden. Just as Aedan had said, everything was going to be all right. They would succeed, and he would finally get the life that he had always wanted.


	30. To Be King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Aedan speak to Eamon and discover his plans to put Alistair forward as King; Aedan discusses with Alistair how the decision to be King will affect his future with Ayla; the party attends a dance held in their honor by Arl Eamon and Alistair and Ayla are found by the Arl in a rather compromising position.

Chapter 30: To Be King

The next morning, Alistair followed Aedan to the Arl's study. Teagan had informed them that the Arl wanted to see the two of them to discuss the plans for Loghain and the Blight. Apparently Arl Eamon had stated that only he and Aedan needed to be present, and they could relay any decisions made to the rest of the party later.

Ayla had told him she was perfectly fine with that, after Teagan had left his door and she'd come out of hiding. She'd still been in his room when Teagan had knocked on his door this morning looking for him, and had quickly hid while he'd scrambled to find his leggings and open the door. Fortunately, Teagan hadn't seemed to notice anything was amiss, and after relaying the Arl's summons, had moved on to find Aedan. Ayla had sent him on his way after he'd dressed with a kiss, telling him to find her in the practice yard later when he was done.

Right at the moment, as they entered the study, where Arl Eamon and Teagan stood waiting for them, he wished he was down in the practice yard with her. He didn't really know why he needed to be present for this discussion, since he didn't think he'd be of any help with making the plans and decisions. He decided he would just let Aedan do most of the talking, as they closed the door behind them and faced the Arl. He looked a good deal healthier than he had the night before; his face was much more robust, his longer, greying hair neatly combed, and he was dressed in a formal red silk tunic with belled sleeves, along with matching breeches of a darker red.

"Teagan has told me all that transpired while I was unconscious," the Arl began. "Much of what he said was most troubling. There is much to be done, that is true. But I should first be thankful to those who have done so much. Aedan, Alistair, the two of you have not only saved my life but kept my family safe as well. I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you both a reward for your service?" He looked to each of them in turn.

Aedan shook his head in response. "We need your help against the Blight. That will do. I would not ask for anything else."

Alistair nodded in agreement with Aedan. He hadn't done any of this in order to be rewarded, and he felt a little embarrassed at the praise. "It was no more than I owed you for what you have done for me in the past. I wouldn't ask for any reward either."

The Arl nodded to Aedan, and his face softened a fraction as he met Alistair's eyes, nodding to him as well. "I understand, but regardless of your motivations, I feel you are both worthy of a reward. I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more."

"As you wish, then," Aedan replied formally, offering a small bow.

"If you would like to, Arl Eamon, of course," Alistair added hastily.

Arl Eamon smiled at them before stating, "Then allow me to declare the two of you and those traveling with you champions of Redcliffe. You will always be welcome guests within these halls. And for you, Alistair, a shield of the same make as those that have been given to our finest knights." He picked up a shield from behind his desk and presented it to him before turning to his fellow Warden. "Aedan, if you like, you may have a look in our treasury later with Teagan and see if there is a suitable sword there for you, as I understand you do not use shields."

"Thank you, Arl Eamon," Alistair stammered as he took the shield, emblazoned with Redcliffe's symbol, surprised that the Arl would offer him such a thing.

Aedan nodded formally in response to the Arl's offer. "Thank you, your grace. I will gladly take you up on your offer later, if you insist."

Teagan, who had been standing quietly next to the Arl, turned towards him now. "We should speak of Loghain, brother. There is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery."

The Arl slowly shook his head, looking as though he still couldn't believe what Loghain had done. Not that Alistair could blame him; after all the stories he'd heard about the hero general from the time he'd been a young boy, he still had a hard time believing what had happened himself. "Loghain instigates a civil war, even though the darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long I have known him. He is a sensible man; one who never desired power."

Teagan scowled. "I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon. He is mad with ambition, I tell you."

Arl Eamon sighed heavily. "Mad indeed. Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands. Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped." He studied Aedan and Alistair for a moment before continuing, "What's more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to its bitter end."

_What?!_ Alistair thought, shocked. Did the Arl mean he wasn't going to do anything about Loghain? He couldn't possibly mean that, could he?

He exchanged a look of disbelief with Aedan, who declared passionately, "We cannot simply let him get away with this. You can unite the nobility against Loghain, can't you?"

"I could unite those opposing Loghain, yes," Arl Eamon replied slowly, shaking his head before continuing, "But not all oppose him. He has some very powerful allies. We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the darkspawn."

_"No!"_ Alistair exclaimed. "We can't!" He was sick at the mere mention of surrendering to Loghain. After everything he'd done – after betraying the Wardens, Duncan, Cailan, and leaving them all to die? After repeatedly trying to kill him and Aedan? How could they possibly surrender to the man?!

"We cannot surrender!" Aedan snapped, sounding as furious and disgusted at the notion as Alistair was. "You cannot mean that everything we've done is for nothing?!"

"No, not at all," the Arl replied, holding his hands up in a soothing manner. "Loghain is responsible for heinous crimes and I intend to see him pay. But, our armies must be reserved for the darkspawn, not for each other. I will spread word of Loghain's treachery, both here and against the king. But it will be but a claim made without proof. Those claims will give Loghain's allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the queen."

Alistair felt his heart stop, panic threatening to overwhelm him, feeling struck dumb as Arl Eamon turned to look at him; as he realized with sudden clarity just what the Arl wanted from him. No, he didn't want this! He had _never_ wanted this!

"Are you referring to Alistair, brother?" Teagan asked incredulously, turning to look at Alistair as well. "Are you certain?"

"I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative," the Arl replied, looking back at his brother. "But the unthinkable has occurred."

Aedan looked between Alistair and the Arl, face expressionless, asking slowly, "You intend to put Alistair forward as king?"

Arl Eamon nodded. "Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair's claim is by blood."

"And what about me?" Alistair demanded angrily, now that he'd managed to swallow down the panic and find his voice. He was furious that they were all discussing him as though he wasn't even there, as though his opinion about his own future didn't even _matter_. "Does anyone care what I want?!"

The Arl froze him with a stern look, one he remembered and had dreaded receiving in his childhood, disapproval etched on his face. "You have a responsibility, Alistair. Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?"

"I – but I –" _I don't want it! I don't want to be king, I want to be a Grey Warden! I can't be responsible for the whole of Ferelden, I just can't!_ The thoughts whirled through his brain, panicking him all over again, but at the same time, the thought of Arl Eamon backing Loghain, of Loghain getting away with everything he'd done, was so abhorrent that he didn't know what else he could possibly do. "No, my lord," he finished at last, quietly, bitterly, knowing that he was trapped by the circumstances of his birth, as he had always been.

Aedan glanced at him, frowning, eyebrows raised, but he didn't say anything as the Arl nodded, as though he had expected Alistair's answer all along. And he probably had, Alistair thought bitterly. What other answer could he give, with that ultimatum?

"I see only one way to proceed," Arl Eamon went on calmly, as though he hadn't just ruined all of Alistair's hopes for a future of his own choosing. "I will call for a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden's nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin." He looked over at Aedan. "What say you to that, my friend? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

"Well, the Landsmeet is likely our best option," Aedan answered thoughtfully. "We have little choice in the matter, I think. It is the best way of confronting Loghain."

The Arl nodded, looking satisfied. "Very well, I will send out the word." His face darkened as he continued, "But before we proceed, I believe there is the matter of the mage . . . my son's tutor. He still lives, I understand." He turned to look at Teagan as though to confirm this.

"He does," Teagan answered. "He is in the dungeon, brother."

"Have him brought here, Teagan. I wish to see him," the Arl replied. Teagan nodded in response, and returned shortly with the dark-haired mage in tow.

He looked a little better than the last time he'd seen him, Alistair noted, trying to focus on the mage instead of his own anxiety and unhappiness about what had just been decided. Jowan was clean, his robes had been washed and mended, and it looked as though they'd actually been feeding him. But the mage's face was lined with anxiety and terror as he looked at Arl Eamon, who stared fiercely back at him.

"Jowan," the Arl began grimly, "what you have done is not in question. You tried to assassinate me and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed everything I cherish. What have you to say in your own defense?"

"Nothing, my lord . . . other than to say I am sorry," the mage replied quietly, his head hanging low. "I expect no mercy for what I have done."

"I see. Aedan, Alistair, do the two of you have anything to say on Jowan's behalf?" Arl Eamon asked, turning to look at them.

Alistair sighed, looking at the mage, who was still studying the floor. The man was a blood mage, but he _had_ been useful in saving Connor's life, and oddly, he didn't seem all that dangerous. "I don't condone what he did, but he was the one to suggest the plan that ultimately saved Connor," he answered the Arl quietly, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Aedan nodded, adding, "He seems earnest in his desire to repent. He did help us, and he was the one that performed the ritual to free Connor."

"Oh? That is . . . unexpected," the Arl replied, frowning, as though he were disappointed with their answers. "And what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see the merciful path is . . . strained."

"Why not give him to the Circle of Magi, my lord?" Alistair offered. It might be the former Templar in him coming out, but that seemed the only logical choice.

"They are the ones who govern mages," Aedan agreed. "It would make sense to leave the decision with them."

Arl Eamon considered it for a moment before nodding. "True enough, and wisely said. Jowan, I hereby turn you over to the tower of the Circle of Magi. May the Maker have mercy on your soul."

"Thank you, my lord," Jowan answered, looking almost relieved at the judgment. Teagan led him back out of the study, presumably to find some guards to take him back to the Circle.

The Arl turned back to Aedan and Alistair, declaring, "Now back to the matter of the Landsmeet. It will take some time to recall my forces and organize our allies. I would prefer to wait until that is done before calling the Landsmeet. In the meantime, I suggest you pursue the remainder of the Grey Warden treaties. We will need all the allies we can get if we are to defeat the darkspawn horde."

"Agreed, my lord," Aedan replied. "We have but one more treaty to pursue, that of the dwarves in Orzammar. Once we have gone there and gained their support, we will return here to report to you, and allow you to call the Landsmeet."

Arl Eamon nodded, and smiled. "Excellent. I have one more reward to offer you and your companions before you leave. We will hold a feast and a dance this night in celebration of the restoration of Redcliffe, and invite all those in the village. You are also, of course, welcome to take a few days' rest before setting off."

"Thank you," Aedan said. "A chance to celebrate and relax would be much appreciated. I think we will stay for one more day after the feast to relax, and set out at dawn the following morning, with your leave."

"Of course," the Arl answered, taking a seat at his desk. "You may spend the rest of your day doing as you wish until the feast. We would be happy to provide you and your companions with appropriate clothing for the feast, as well. I will send some of the maids to fetch you all later for some fittings."

Aedan bowed low. "We are honoured by your generosity. We will take our leave now, to report the news to our companions."

"Yes, of course," the Arl waved his hand, indicating they were dismissed. "I will look forward to meeting the rest of your companions tonight."

Alistair followed Aedan out the door, clutching the shield in his hand, still feeling numb from the decision to make him king. The feast, the dance, and the days they had to rest before they left Redcliffe made things a little better, at least. He would have a few good opportunities for spending time with Ayla, if nothing else. He tried to focus on that, instead of the future that he was now dreading.

As soon as they were a little ways down the hall, Aedan stepped in front of him, piercing him with an intense stare. "I need to talk to you before we see the others. Follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Aedan turned and began to head back in the direction of their rooms. Alistair followed, puzzled as to what exactly his fellow Warden was up to. What could he possibly want to discuss now? Aedan went into his own room and as soon as Alistair had stepped inside, he closed the door.

Alistair stared at him, confused, as Aedan stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, regarding him with raised brows. "I thought you said you didn't want to be king?"

"I don't!" Alistair exclaimed, wondering what Aedan was on about. "But you heard the Arl! If I said no, he'd back Loghain instead. What was I supposed to say?!"

Aedan scowled, his fists clenching. "Yes, don't remind me. That was an extremely manipulative trick he pulled to get the answer that he wanted. But, Alistair, if you become king –"

"What, I'll be terrible at it?" Alistair interrupted, feeling strangely hurt. He knew he would be bad at it, but for some reason, he'd been hoping that Aedan, at least, might have a little faith in him. "You think I don't know that?"

"Actually, that's not what I was going to say," Aedan replied, rolling his eyes. "If you'd shut up and listen to me for a minute – I actually think you'd make a fine king, once you got the hang of it, and with the right people backing you up. But –" he sighed, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "you want to marry Ayla, don't you?"

Alistair blinked. He was surprised and pleased that Aedan actually thought he'd be a good king, but he failed to see why he'd asked that question. What relevance did his feelings for Ayla have to any of this? "Of course I want to marry Ayla, once we defeat the Blight. Why do you ask?"

Aedan ran his hands through his hair before fixing Alistair with a sombre gaze. "Alistair – if you become king . . . they won't let you marry Ayla."

"What?!" Alistair cried, feeling as though he'd been struck a blow to the gut, his heart wrenching in his chest at the same time. The only thing that might have made being a king even remotely tolerable would have been having Ayla at his side. What could Aedan possibly mean?! Why wouldn't he be able to marry Ayla?! "Why – why not? She would make a great queen, she'd be much better at it than me! Why wouldn't they let me?"

Aedan sighed heavily, the look in his grey eyes sympathetic. "I agree with you on that one. The Landsmeet, however, is not going to care about what kind of person she is. The only thing that they are going to care about is whether she is the daughter of a Teyrn, or of an Arl. Since she is not – and they have no idea who she is, or where she's from – they will view her as a commoner, and entirely inappropriate for you to marry. A Grey Warden can marry for love, but a King can't."

When Alistair opened his mouth to object, Aedan continued on, interrupting him, "Not to mention, what if they find out about her abilities? And they will, eventually, no matter how hard we try to keep it a secret. When they do – well, I think Morrigan was right about that. She'll end up being locked up in the Circle, _if_ she's lucky. So even if somehow, you could convince them to overlook the fact that she's a commoner in their eyes, you'll be putting her in danger by having her in the court, where all eyes would be on her, all the time."

Alistair gaped at Aedan wordlessly, his heart sinking and breaking as the truth of his friend's words hit home. Just when he thought he might be able to keep her, for good, he was going to lose her? Even if they made it through the Blight alive, he wouldn't be able to marry her or have her by his side? He was going to lose the best thing in his life, for something he had never wanted? To be somebody he didn't even want to be? How could this have _happened_?

"What – what am I supposed to do, Aedan?" he asked desperately. "I – I can't lose her. I _can't_. If I could be with her, I might be able to survive being king. But if it means I can't have her – I –"

"Okay, calm down," Aedan ordered him, pacing back and forth. "We'll think of something. If you don't want to be king, then we'll come up with another plan."

"But _what_?" Alistair demanded, as he took deep breaths to try to calm himself down. "We can't let Loghain be king, either!"

Aedan shook his head. "No, we can't, and we won't. But . . ." he paused, appearing to be considering something. "If we can get Anora to side against her father, we could leave the throne to her. She did all the ruling the last five years, anyway, and she was good at it. Cailan was just a figurehead, really."

Alistair stared at him in shock, wondering if his fellow Warden had lost his mind. "What in the Maker's name makes you think she'll do that? He's her father!"

"Yes, I know that," Aedan snapped impatiently. "But I knew her, and Cailan. I believe she truly loved him, and I do not believe she was involved in her father's plan to get rid of him. When we get to Denerim, and the Landsmeet, if I can talk to her, I think I can convince her of the monster her father's become. And if she sides against him in the Landsmeet, that would be a huge blow to him and his supporters. If Loghain's out of the picture, I do not think there's any reason we can't leave Anora on the throne."

"Do you really think that would work?" Alistair asked, hope rising in him. If there really was some way they could keep Loghain away from the throne without Alistair himself having to become king, it would be exactly what he wanted – what he _needed_ – to happen.

Aedan nodded, slowly. "I think it would. Right now, anyway, it's your best option. But we have some time; it will be at least two months to get to Orzammar and back, if not longer, not to mention the time it will take to call the Landsmeet and get to Denerim. We have plenty of time to think this through and make our plans."

Alistair sighed in relief. Aedan was right; none of this was going to happen right away, anyway. They had time to think about what was going to be done; nothing was going to be decided right now, and he might still have a chance to get the future he wanted. "Thank you, Aedan," he said sincerely. "If this works, I will owe you more than I can ever repay."

Aedan shook his head dismissively. "Don't worry about it. You're my brother Warden, after all. I want you to be happy, and I want Ayla to be happy. But in the meantime, until we can talk to Anora, you have to let Eamon think that you're still going to be king. And that means doing whatever he asks of you to make him believe that you're still on board with that plan."

"What do you mean?" Alistair demanded, puzzled. "Surely if we explain to him that there's another way, and that this is what I want, he will understand and support us."

Aedan sighed, squeezing Alistair's shoulder as he fixed him with a firm stare. "No, he won't. Even without Loghain, he won't want Anora alone on the throne. He's old-fashioned, and he will be determined to have Theirin blood on the throne if there's any way for that to happen. Trust me on this one, my friend."

Alistair frowned, studying Aedan. "Are you sure? If I explain that I love Ayla and want to be with her, and don't want to be king, he'll understand. _He_ married for love, against the king's wishes, after all."

Aedan released his shoulder and stepped back. "You're right, he did, but Alistair . . ." He shook his head. "He's not a fan of Anora's, and I think he's quite determined that you be king, no matter what. I hope I'm wrong about this, really, I do. Tell you what – tonight, at the feast, introduce Ayla to him and tell him that you want to marry her. Don't say anything about putting someone else on the throne; just . . . see what he says about Ayla being your queen, and if he really cares that it's what you want. Because, well . . . do you ever remember him actually caring what you wanted, or just doing what he thought would be best without caring how it affected you?"

Alistair stared at him wordlessly, unsure of how to respond. He remembered how furious he'd been at being sent away, how he'd raged and cried, and how the Arl had not bent in the slightest. And what had happened just now, in the study, how quickly Arl Eamon had overridden his objections, and manipulated the outcome so he could only answer one way. He hoped Aedan was wrong, too, because surely the Arl cared about him, didn't he? He'd raised him as a child, he'd fixed the amulet, but . . .

When he thought back on it, though, Duncan had been the first person ever to ask him what he wanted to do, instead of telling him what he _should_ want to do. Ayla and Aedan had been the only people to ever tell him they cared about him, or that they thought he should do what he wanted, what made him happy. He would trust his friend, and do it his way, for now, he decided. He would tell the Arl about Ayla, and see if he would prove Aedan wrong. If not, then he would have to go behind the Arl's back along with Aedan to get someone else on the throne, because there was nothing else that he could do and still remain sane.

"All right," he said at last, nodding. "I'll follow your plan, Aedan, and see what the Arl says. I hope that he will understand."

"I hope so, too," Aedan replied softly, though he looked relieved that Alistair had agreed with him. "Let's go talk to the others and let them know what's been decided."

"Ayla is in the practice yard, let's see if we can find the others there as well." Alistair headed for the door, feeling a good deal better now that they had some sort of plan. He would talk to the Arl at the feast tonight, and he would find out just what he had to do in order to get the life he wanted for himself.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The feast itself was over, and the party had now turned to dancing, as the band of minstrels from the village played various songs. The Arl had invited everyone from the village as well as all the castle workers, and the party was surprisingly merry, considering all that had happened in Redcliffe in recent months. Everybody was likely relieved to have a reason to celebrate and relax.

The introductions to the Arl during the feast had gone well enough; Aedan had introduced each of their companions in turn, explaining where they came from and how they had joined the party. Since they obviously could not explain exactly where Ayla had come from, they had talked it over with Ayla earlier and come up with a cover story should anyone ask. She was now a mercenary from Kirkwall, as Aedan said he knew a fair bit about Kirkwall and could fill her in on anything someone might ask, who had come to Ferelden looking for work and ended up joining them to assist in their fight against the darkspawn.

They had considered calling her a soldier, but had been unable to come up with a satisfactory reason why she would leave her post. Calling her a noblewoman from another country would also not work; the Arl would know all the noble houses and would know that she did not belong to any of them. Getting her to impersonate someone would only make matters worse if it was discovered, so the mercenary story had been the best one they could come up with in order to explain her abilities in battle. Alistair planned on talking to the Arl in private later to explain his intentions towards Ayla; since he hadn't actually talked to _her_ yet about getting married, he didn't want the first time she heard about it to be in front of the Arl.

He had not wanted to ask Ayla to marry him until the Blight was over and their future was a little more certain. And he certainly didn't want to bring it up now when there was a chance it might not happen if he was forced to become king. No, until he knew just who was going to be on the throne, he was not going to bring it up with her; he'd merely discuss it with the Arl later and hope that Aedan had been wrong.

He was waiting for her now at the entrance to the great hall; she'd gone to change into the dress she'd been loaned after the feast, saying that she hadn't wanted to get it dirty while eating, and had wanted it to be a surprise for him. The others were all dancing or chatting with other partygoers in the great hall already. Everyone but Morrigan had taken up the Arl on his offer for clothing and had already changed into it; Morrigan was still wearing her far-too-revealing clothes from the Wilds as she danced with Aedan, who was wearing a red tunic shot with gold and black breeches, looking every inch the nobleman's son dancing with a Witch of the Wilds. It was an odd contrast, and several of the partygoers were staring at them.

"Well, here I am," Ayla's voice came from next to him, as he'd been standing to the side of the door, watching the dancers and the party while he waited. "What do you think?"

He turned around to look at her, and sucked in a breath, his throat going dry. Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders and back in flaming waves, with silver ribbons woven in it. The dress she was wearing was designed to be the ruin of men, he thought faintly, especially when she was the one filling it out. It was a dark purple, strapless dress, cut low in the front, with a long, flowing skirt, that was slit up the left side to show flashes of her thigh as she moved. It only had a strap across her upper back to hold the top part of the dress in place – the rest of it left her back completely bare, all the way down to where it met her delectable rear.

"I – you – that dress – you look –" He could feel himself going red in the face as he fumbled for words. He hadn't felt this tongue-tied around her in a long time, but he couldn't find words adequate to describe how devastatingly beautiful she looked right now.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. "You haven't been this flustered in a while. Does that mean you like it?"

"You look stunning," he managed at last, clearing his throat. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

Her face softened as she looked up at him. "Thank you. You look quite stunning yourself."

He snorted, glancing down at the dark blue tunic threaded with silver Teagan had loaned him, along with a pair of black breeches similar to Aedan's. "I'm sure."

"You have no idea, do you?" she asked, shaking her head. "How ridiculously handsome you are?"

He couldn't suppress a grin at her words, even as he found them hard to believe. "Ridiculously handsome?" he repeated incredulously. "You don't really think that, do you?"

She grinned as she met his eyes, running her hands up his chest. "Of course I do. Why do you think I find it so hard to keep my hands off of you?"

He quickly grabbed her wrists to stop her movement. He didn't need any extra temptations when she looked like that. "Well – uh, anyway, would you like to dance, my lady?"

"But of course, good ser," she replied mockingly, curtseying before she took the arm he held out for her.

He led her out among the dancers, taking her left hand in his right, and placing his other hand on the small of her back. He suppressed a groan at the feel of her bare skin under his hand, trying not to slide his hand under the edge of the fabric just below it, as she put her other hand on his shoulder, and they began to move to the music. He tried his best to observe what the other couples were doing and imitate it; fortunately it was a slow song so it didn't require a lot of movement.

A thought suddenly occurred to him as they danced. "I've never seen you go anywhere without some kind of weapon on you," he murmured in a low voice. "I'm surprised you agreed to wear a dress like that where you couldn't hide a weapon or two."

She looked up at him, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "What makes you think I'm not hiding any weapons?" She took her hand off his shoulder, pulling forward the front of her dress ever so slightly to allow him to glimpse the small dagger tucked into her cleavage. Then, she pulled up the slit on her skirt just a little bit more, showing a garter belt strapped to her bare thigh with a dagger tucked in it.

"Oh, Maker," he groaned, as she let the skirt drop and all his blood flowed straight south. There was something unbelievably arousing about that garter belt, and now it was all he could think about. "Are you trying to kill me?"

She chuckled softly as she suddenly moved closer, her skirts brushing against his legs as she whispered into his ear, "No, if I was trying to kill you, I'd tell you I'm not wearing any smallclothes underneath this dress."

He nearly tripped over his own feet as he stared down at her, eyes wide. "You – are you serious?" he hissed.

She nodded slowly, her green eyes flaring with heat as she looked up at him. And suddenly, he couldn't take it any longer. He looked around quickly to make sure nobody was watching them, before he dragged her out of the great hall. He pulled her through a few of the stone hallways before he found one that was deserted; he stopped and pushed her up against a wall, bracing one hand on the wall by her head while he slid the other one inside the opening of her skirt.

He kissed her hard, demanding a response that she willingly gave as he slid his hand higher up her leg, past the garter. Her hands ran all over his chest and slid down his abdomen. Just as he reached the juncture of her thighs, groaning in her mouth when he found that she was indeed bare to his touch, she gripped him through the fabric of his breeches, stroking hard.

He gasped, pulling back from her mouth as his whole body jerked; with his other hand, he grabbed one of her wrists, than the other, pulling them over her head and pinning them to the wall. "You're not going to let me touch you?" she asked softly, smiling and tugging experimentally against his hold. He didn't let go, watching her eyes darken as he kept her hands trapped. She'd admitted to liking it when he was rough with her, and he was finding he was only too happy to oblige.

He shook his head. "It's my turn to drive you crazy," he told her, sliding a finger inside her waiting warmth, swallowing her cry inside his mouth as he kissed her again. This time, he kissed her slowly, savouring the feel of her lips beneath his as he slid another finger inside her, moving them in and out in a torturously slow rhythm.

As her breathing became more ragged, he slid his mouth down to her neck, nibbling and sucking his way along, never letting go of her hands no matter how hard she pulled against him. "Oh, Alistair," she moaned, writhing as he began to pick up speed with his fingers.

She was close to her release, he knew, and he was going to bury himself inside her as soon as it happened. He wanted her so badly at this moment that he didn't care where they were or if someone found them, at least, that's what he thought, until a shocked voice echoed down the hallway. "Alistair?!"

He jerked his head up from her neck, letting go of her hands and getting his other hand out from underneath her skirt as he quickly stepped between her and the source of the voice, trying to block her from view as he turned towards it. His heated senses cooled rapidly as he saw Arl Eamon standing only a few feet down the hallway, staring at him with a look of shocked surprise rapidly morphing into stern disapproval.

"Arl Eamon – I –" he didn't know what to say. He hadn't even stopped to consider that someone might come looking for them. And while part of him felt ashamed of his actions and wanted to apologize to the Arl, the other part of him was just frustrated with the interruption.

"I need to speak to you, Alistair," the Arl replied sternly. He cast a scornful glance over Alistair's shoulder at Ayla, who had not moved away from the wall. "Alone. _Now_."


	31. Inappropriate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla returns to the hall alone and dances with Zevran while waiting for Alistair, which forces a confrontation with Wynne; Arl Eamon tries to convince Alistair to break his relationship off with Ayla; later that night, Alistair and Ayla discuss their future.

Chapter 31: Inappropriate

Ayla sighed as she made her way back to the main hall. After sending her an apologetic and regretful look, Alistair had followed Arl Eamon out of the hallway they were in to speak to him alone. She had never actually been embarrassed or ashamed of her actions before, but after the way the Arl had looked at her, she was and she did not like the feeling.

He had looked at her with such _disdain_ , it had been unsettling. She could almost hear him thinking the same thing that Alistair's so-called sister had said about her: that she was a tart, following him around because he was a prince. That she was seducing Alistair for what she could get out of him.

It was her own fault, really. She'd worn that dress with the deliberate intention of driving Alistair wild, and then had been so lost in the feel of his hands and mouth on her that she hadn't even heard Arl Eamon coming. It was an inexcusable mistake; what if they'd been out in the woods and the Arl had been an enemy? They could have both been in serious danger, and she was upset with herself for allowing it to happen.

What was even worse was that she'd wanted to make a good impression on the Arl, since she knew that he meant a lot to Alistair. She'd wanted him to view her favourably, and now she had made an obviously bad impression. She couldn't help but be worried that part of his conversation with Alistair would not only be about the inappropriateness of what they'd been doing in the hallway, but how she herself was not appropriate for him.

She wasn't used to worrying about what other people thought about her, and she most certainly wasn't used to worrying about whether or not people would feel she was an appropriate match for someone. But if Alistair was to be her life-mate, all the people in his life needed to accept her as such. What if the Arl somehow convinced Alistair he shouldn't be with her? She didn't think that would happen, but she didn't know for sure.

Then there was also the problem of what he and Aedan weren't telling her. When they had outlined the plan earlier, they had mentioned that the Arl would be calling a Landsmeet about Loghain when they got back from Orzammar, but nothing else. She could see that they were holding something back from everyone. She'd been intending on asking Alistair when they were alone later tonight just what that was. She suspected it might have something to do with his being a potential candidate for the throne, which only made it more likely that the Arl would not want her around. She knew enough about court and politics to know that in this world, she was not an acceptable match for a king.

All in all, what had started out as a really good night was now rapidly beginning to look like it might be one of the worst nights of her life recently. She entered the main hall finally, though she wasn't quite sure why she had gone back there. Probably in the hopes that Alistair would return there soon and she could find out what had occurred during his talk with the Arl.

She found her way over to an unoccupied stretch of wall, not certain that she wanted to talk to anyone just at the moment, and proceeded to lean against the wall watching the dancers while looking to see where the others were. Morrigan was still dancing with Aedan, the two looking as though they were quite enjoying themselves despite the stares they were receiving; Leliana was dancing with a man she'd never seen before, and Wynne was talking to another woman over in the corner. She didn't any sign of Sten anywhere; she guessed he had probably left shortly after the feast.

She was just thinking that she couldn't see Zevran anywhere either when she heard him say, "Ah, my dear, there you are!" She glanced over to her right to see Zevran coming towards her, smiling. He was wearing a black tunic and tan breeches that suited his coloring well, and had some of his blonde hair tied back, though the rest hung to his shoulders. "Would you like to dance?"

It would be better to keep herself busy than to agonize over what the Arl was talking about with Alistair, she decided. "Sure, Zev, why not?"

He took her hand and led her out to the dance floor, smoothly taking up the appropriate stance and expertly leading her around in a slightly complicated dance. She found it surprisingly easy to follow his lead although she was unfamiliar with the steps herself, and wasn't too surprised at his expertise in this area. Alistair had obviously been fumbling a little bit earlier, but she knew he likely hadn't had many opportunities or reasons to learn to dance, unlike Zevran.

"If you do not mind my asking," Zevran began after they had been dancing for a few minutes in silence, "is something wrong? You do not look quite yourself."

Ayla debated with herself for a moment whether to tell him or not, but she did feel like she needed someone to talk to, and he might understand. It did not help matters that she felt like a few of the partygoers were staring at her with judgmental expressions now that she was dancing with Zevran after having left the hall with a different man previously. Maybe she was just being paranoid; she didn't actually know if anyone had seen her leave with Alistair earlier, but she couldn't seem to shake the feeling that people were staring at her. "Well . . . yes. I am . . . feeling a little ashamed of myself, and it's not a feeling I am used to having."

He tilted his head, frowning. "What have you done that you would feel the need to be ashamed?"

"Well," she said slowly, "the Arl found Alistair and I in a . . . compromising position in the hallway earlier. He looked at me with such _disgust_ – I just – I couldn't help the feeling. And now I feel as though some of the people in the hall are looking askance at me."

Zevran snorted, glancing around them at the other dancers. "Why should you care if they are? They know nothing about you. And how do you know they are not merely staring at the most beautiful woman here?"

"Zev . . ." Ayla began, unsure of what to say. She was flattered, of course, but she did not want him to get the wrong idea just because she had agreed to dance with him.

"Do not worry, my dear," he continued quietly, smiling wryly at her. "It is true, I had hoped that you might eventually tire of your Warden and allow me to show you _all_ of my skills. But," he overrode her objection before she could voice it, "I know now after the incident with the dragon that it is sadly not meant to be. You love Alistair, do you not?" She nodded in answer, slightly surprised that he'd realized that, and Zevran went on, "I thought as much. He is a lucky man. My point, however, is that you should not concern yourself with what these people think of you. The only opinions that should matter are those of the people who do know you and cannot help but to care about you."

Ayla couldn't help but smile, feeling better already from Zevran's words, delivered with a seriousness she so rarely saw from him. "Thank you. I am truly happy to hear you think of me so highly. But . . . well, I cannot stop myself from worrying about what the Arl, at least, thinks of me. He means a lot to Alistair, and I am afraid he will now try to convince Alistair that I am not right for him."

Zevran shook his head. "You may be right about that, but I do not believe that Alistair is so foolish or cares so little for you as to actually listen to him."

Ayla sighed. That was what she truly wanted to believe, but part of her was afraid she would turn out to be wrong. "I hope you are right, Zevran."

"I am certain of it, my dear," he told her, guiding her carefully around a clustered group of dancers. "And if I do turn out to be wrong, I would be happy to fulfill any desires for you in his place." He winked at her.

She laughed even as she shook her head at him. "I appreciate the selfless offer, Zev, but I don't think I will be taking you up on it."

"Ah, well, it was worth a shot, was it not?" he asked, sighing dramatically. He paused for a moment before going on in a more serious tone, "So I am forced to ask: If we are not to be lovers, are we at least to be friends?"

Ayla smiled, her heart truly warmed by his question. "I certainly hope so. Zev, I think of you as one of my dearest friends, and I hope that you feel the same."

He nodded, his expression lightening although she thought she could detect a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Good. Nothing would please me more. Some friendships are worth pursuing, and you, my dear, are most certainly one of them. I am truly honoured that you would think the same of me." He studied her for a moment. "Might I ask you a question, though?"

"Go ahead," Ayla replied, curious as to what else could possibly be on his mind. She did still want to ask him about what the Guardian had said to him back at the Gauntlet, but she didn't think this was either the time or the place for it.

"I am curious to know –" he twirled her expertly before pulling her back to face him "- would I have stood a chance with you had you met me before you met Alistair?"

She bit her lip, considering how best to answer his question. She knew she would have bedded him, certainly, but in the long run, she would have still ended up with Alistair – he was her life-mate, after all. "Would it make you feel better or worse if I said yes?"

He shrugged. "Honestly? I do not know."

"Let me put it this way," she said at last. "I would have tested your . . . _skills_ in more than one way, and I would have cared for you deeply as I do now. But I believe I would always have fallen in love with Alistair."

He nodded, looking unsurprised, then flashed her a smile. "I had thought as much. Perhaps it is best I do not know what I am missing, then." As the song came to a halt, he guided her off the dance floor. "Shall we get something to drink?"

"Come to think of it, I am thirsty," she replied, following him over to a table along the side of the hall that had been set up with various bottles and refreshments. They had no sooner reached the table than Wynne approached them.

"Ayla, may I speak with you in private?" the elderly mage asked.

Ayla frowned. She and Wynne were not close; though she appreciated the older woman's talents and help, she had always gotten the feeling that Wynne disliked her. So she had made a point of avoiding the woman where possible, and not getting to know her better as she had done with most of the others. Wynne had seemingly followed the same policy; this was the first time she could recall the mage approaching her just to talk and not heal a wound. She glanced at Zevran uncertainly.

He looked equally surprised, and his eyes hardened slightly as he looked at Wynne. He turned back to Ayla and smiled. "Go ahead, my dear. I will get something to drink. If you wish to dance again later, I will be happy to join you."

She smiled back at him. "Thank you, Zev." She turned to Wynne expectantly. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Not here," the mage answered, heading away from the table. She led Ayla over to a somewhat deserted corner of the hall, a little ways away from the table and the dance floor. "It will be quieter over here."

"Sure," Ayla replied uncertainly. "What is it that's on your mind?"

"I've noticed your . . . relationship with Alistair, and I wanted to ask where you thought it was going. Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. You, I suspect, are much more . . . _experienced_ than he is. I would hate to see him get hurt." And there it was; practically the same look the Arl had given her, only Wynne was going to at least some effort to slightly veil it.

Ayla scowled. "Are you implying that I would hurt Alistair? I would _never_ do such a thing."

Wynne raised her eyebrows skeptically. "If you speak the truth, perhaps you should stop carrying on with Zevran, then?"

"I – what?!" Ayla exclaimed, unable to believe what she was hearing. Was Wynne actually implying that she would string both men along?! "I am _not_ carrying on with Zevran! We are just friends! As a matter of fact, we were establishing that just now, that I am with Alistair, and Zevran and I will _never_ be more than friends. Not that any of this is your business, though!"

"All right," Wynne nodded slowly, though her expression did not change. "Even if you are solely devoted to Alistair, there is still great potential in this relationship for tragedy, for one or both of you. We are fighting a Blight, and he is the son of a king. You both have responsibilities which supercede your personal desires."

Ayla glared at the mage. She couldn't believe how nosy this woman was being! " _If_? For your information, since you seem so determined to poke your nose where it doesn't belong, I _love_ Alistair, so whatever you might think, I am not interested in another man! Besides which, I am perfectly capable of handling my responsibilities _and_ my relationships."

Wynne sighed, shaking her head. "You say that you love him; well, love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. We cannot afford to be selfish right now, nor can a Grey Warden. Alistair has nearly lost his life already protecting you, and we cannot afford to lose one of the only Wardens we have left."

"You think I don't know that?" Ayla snapped. The old woman was really trying her temper. She had never been so close to hitting a fellow companion in her life. "I never asked him to protect me, and I don't want him to! I have told him that already. If such a situation ever happens again, I will make sure that Alistair is the one to live through it."

Wynne frowned. "You cannot be certain that things would work out as you desire. If Alistair is incapable of making the correct choice, which is to not be involved with anyone during this Blight, then it is up to you. You must be the one to end things before it is too late, so that he may put his focus where it needs to be."

Ayla threw up her hands, beyond frustrated with Wynne. Was she really serious?! "You know what? I am _done_ discussing this with you. I will not end my relationship with Alistair just because _you_ think it's the right thing to do! For the last time, this is none of your business, and you need to stop trying to force your advice on me; you are not my mother!"

Wynne's eyes flashed as she planted her hands on her hips, glaring at Ayla. "No, I am most certainly not. I would not have done such a poor job of raising you."

" _What_ did you just say to me?!" Ayla snarled.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Would you mind telling me just what you were thinking, Alistair?" the Arl asked coldly, facing him across his desk in the study. He was seated, his hands folded on his desk, while Alistair was left to stand.

He felt exactly as he had as a young boy, being dragged into the Arl's study to face punishment for having done something wrong, Alistair reflected. He did his best to stand straight and tall, facing the Arl, keeping his hands tucked behind his back because he had no idea what else to do with them. He'd gotten over the frustration he felt at the interruption, and now he was just embarrassed and ashamed at having been caught. "I . . . guess I wasn't thinking," he offered lamely. "I . . . didn't really think anybody would come looking for us."

"Indeed," Arl Eamon replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "That was one of your companions, was it not? Ayla, the mercenary, I believe?"

"Uh, yes, my lord," Alistair nodded, silently cursing himself. This was definitely _not_ how he'd wanted the Arl to find out about his relationship with Ayla.

The Arl drummed his fingers on the desk. "Might I ask just how long this has been going on? Was this your first . . . _indiscretion_ with her?"

"Well . . . not exactly," Alistair hedged. Maker, could this possibly be more awkward? How was he supposed to get this conversation back on the right track now?

" _How long_?" Arl Eamon demanded, fixing him with a cold glare.

"It's been going on for a few months, I suppose," Alistair answered quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I've been interested in her since I met her, but the, uh, indiscretions, started when we were in Denerim looking for Brother Genitivi."

The Arl sighed, dropping his face into his hands for a moment before lifting his head and looking at Alistair again. "Well, they need to stop now."

"What?!" Alistair exclaimed. Maker, was Aedan really right, or had he screwed this up by not telling the Arl sooner? "No, it's not just – I mean, I love her! I'm sorry, I'll be more careful, but I'm not going to end things with her!"

Arl Eamon shook his head, looking weary. "Alistair, you are still very young. She is obviously a beautiful woman, with some nice qualities I am certain, but this is merely infatuation. Once you become King, we will find you a more appropriate woman, and you will get over this . . . mercenary of yours."

"It is not just infatuation!" Alistair snapped, feeling anger rising in him. How could the Arl even think that he had no idea what he was feeling? "I love her, and I am not going to get _over_ that by entering into some arranged marriage! No, Ayla is the only woman I am ever going to marry."

Arl Eamon raised his eyebrows, folding his hands together. "Is that so? Does she feel the same as you, or is she merely interested in seducing her way onto a throne?"

"How dare you-" Alistair was so furious with the Arl, he could barely form words as he stared at him, aghast. "Ayla is not like that! She loves me!"

"Hmm," the Arl regarded him for a long moment. "Does she know who you really are?"

"Well . . . yes," Alistair admitted reluctantly. "I told her and Aedan before we arrived in Redcliffe for the first time. But I also told her I had no intention of ever being king!"

"But she knows you are the only possible heir left now that Cailan is dead, does she not?" Arl Eamon asked inexorably. "How can you be certain she is not merely looking at you as a permanent benefactor?"

Alistair slammed his hand down on the Arl's desk, furious beyond his ability to express. "Because I know her! She is not that kind of person! She isn't interested in being a queen, or interested in me for money!" He knew he couldn't explain the real reason why she'd first been interested in him, because he didn't think it would make Arl Eamon view her any more favourably.

"Alistair, you must forgive me if I am sceptical," Arl Eamon began, "but you must admit that it is a possibility if she knows that you are a prince and will one day be a king. It would certainly be a step up for her as a mercenary, and you cannot be certain –"

"I _am_ ," Alistair interrupted him coldly, crossing his arms. "You don't know the first thing about her, or it would never enter your mind to think that! You have no idea of the things she's done, or how much she has tried to help the people we've met. _Including_ you and the people of Redcliffe. She has been of great help to us on this journey, and we would never have gotten this far without her. You don't know what you're talking about!"

"All right," the Arl conceded, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "You are right, I do not know her. And she may indeed be all that you say she is. However, Alistair, that does not change the fact that she is not an appropriate match for you as a future king."

"You cannot mean that!" Alistair protested desperately. This was _so_ not going the way that he'd hoped it would. "Just because she is not from some noble family, that does not mean she wouldn't make a great queen! Shouldn't the kind of person she is be more important? Or the fact that I love her and I want to be with her? You're already making me do something that I would rather not ever do! How can you deny me the only other thing I want?"

Arl Eamon sighed, his expression pained as he regarded Alistair. "I am afraid that who she is will be of great importance to the Landsmeet, Alistair. You will not be able to convince them that she is an appropriate choice for Queen. They will insist, and rightly so, that you marry a girl from one of the noble families. The future of Ferelden and the Theirin bloodline are of far more importance than anything else, I am sorry to say."

"Terrific," Alistair remarked bitterly. "So the fact that I am going to be a king means that I cannot have _anything_ I want, not even the woman I love? Being a Warden sounds like a far better deal, then."

"We have been through this already, Alistair," the Arl reminded him gently. "For the good of Ferelden, we need you to be the King, not a Warden. And while I am sure it is fine for a Warden to count witches, assassins, and mercenaries among their friends and . . . lovers, it is not acceptable for a King. With that in mind, I must ask that you end this . . . relationship of yours immediately."

End his relationship with Ayla? No, he wouldn't, he _couldn't_. He couldn't possibly do that. The very thought made him feel as though he couldn't breathe. He wanted, more than anything, to tell the Arl that he was never going to be King, but he knew he couldn't do that. Not yet, anyway.

Aedan had been right all along, he realized. If he became King, he would never get to be with Ayla, which meant he had to go along with Aedan's plan. But part of Aedan's plan had been to convince Arl Eamon that he was going to be King until they were ready to tell him otherwise. Meaning that he had to agree to whatever the Arl wished him to do. But to end things with Ayla, to even pretend to do so? He just didn't think he could do that!

But maybe he could offer the Arl a compromise, he decided. It was worth a try, anyway. "All right, all right, I . . . understand what you're saying. But it will be some time before the Landsmeet. I will . . . agree to end my relationship with Ayla when I become King, without arguing, but only if you will allow me to continue the relationship until then."

The Arl considered him for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. If I have your word that you will no longer see her once you become King, I will agree to those terms. But in the meantime, I must ask you to be more discreet. We cannot have the whole of the Landsmeet and your future wife hearing about your indiscretions with her."

Alistair wanted to snarl at him that _Ayla_ was his future wife, so it didn't matter, but he kept his mouth shut. The Arl had a point about being more discreet, anyway. He didn't want to ever be interrupted like that again, and he didn't want anyone to think badly of Ayla, either. "Yes, my lord. You have my word, and I promise we will be far more discreet in the future. May I have your leave to return to the party now?"

The Arl nodded. "Yes, go on. I will rejoin the celebrations in a moment."

"Thank you, my lord," Alistair replied, before turning and leaving the study. He headed back towards the great hall, hoping that Ayla had gone back there and was still waiting for him.

He was going to spend every moment he possibly could with her until the Landsmeet, he decided, just in case things did not go well. But he was also going to do everything in his power to make sure that he never became King. It was not what he wanted, and it was time he started looking out for himself, like Aedan and Ayla had advised. He had spent his whole life doing what other people thought was best for him, and he was sick of it. He refused to do it anymore. He was going to do what he thought was best for himself, and that was that.

He entered the great hall, looking around to see if he could spot Ayla. It took only a few moments before he saw her in a corner of the hall, talking to Wynne. He frowned as he headed over to the two women. He didn't think he'd ever seen them voluntarily having a conversation on their own. In fact, he was pretty sure Ayla made a point of avoiding Wynne.

He winced as a sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe Wynne had somehow heard about what had happened, and was lecturing Ayla about it. She did seem to enjoy lecturing people, after all. He picked up the pace; if he was right about this, he had a feeling her lecture wouldn't go over well with Ayla.

He had just gotten within earshot of Ayla when he heard her exclaim, "This is none of your business, and you need to stop trying to force your advice on me; you are not my mother!"

"No, I am most certainly not. I would not have done such a poor job of raising you," Wynne snapped back at her.

_Oh no_ , Alistair thought, appalled that Wynne would even say such a thing. He reached Ayla just as she snarled, " _What_ did you just say to me?!"

Fearing that Ayla's next step might be violent, he quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her behind him as he stepped between the two women. "Wynne," he began, unable to veil his disappointment in her, "Ayla's mother died when she was very young. Even if she hadn't, though, you shouldn't have said something like that to her."

He watched as Wynne's eyes widened in realization. "I – I am sorry," she stammered. "I did not know."

Ayla stepped around Alistair, her eyes blazing with fury as she stared the mage down. "Well, maybe you should try getting to know a person before you make judgments or assumptions about them!" she snapped. "And for future reference, if I ever want advice from you, I'll ask. Otherwise, don't bother."

She turned around and stalked away. Alistair looked at Wynne, shaking his head. "I don't know what that was about, but you should apologize to her."

Before Wynne could respond, however, he hurried after Ayla. They definitely needed to talk. "Ayla, wait," he called. "Where are you going?"

She didn't stop or turn around, but she slowed down so that he was able to catch up to her as she left the hall. She sighed when he came up next to her. "I am going back to my room. I think I've had quite enough of this party."

"Mind if I come with you?" he asked softly. "We should probably discuss a few things."

She cast him a wry look. "Are you allowed to be alone with me after what happened earlier?"

Alistair couldn't help but grin in response. "Yes, I am." _For now, anyway_. "Besides, I don't really want an audience around when we talk."

"Neither do I," she agreed.

It only took them a few moments to reach her room, and fortunately, they did not run into anyone on the way. Alistair did not especially want to see the Arl just now, even if he had agreed to allow him to continue to see Ayla for the moment.

Ayla closed the door behind them, then sat down on her bed and looked up at him, her expression carefully blank. "What happened with Arl Eamon? Was he very angry?"

"I'm sorry about what happened," Alistair began. "I should have thought things through a little more –"

"No, I'm sorry," Ayla interrupted him. "That was my fault. I shouldn't have teased you like that, and I didn't even hear the Arl coming. If I had, we could have avoided all that."

Unable to help himself, Alistair grinned. "Well, I was kind of distracting you at the time."

She laughed softly. "I suppose you were. But still, I should have –"

He held up his hand to stop her. "How about we just say we were both at fault, and leave it at that? Next time, we'll just make sure we get somewhere a little more private before we start something like that."

"That sounds like a good plan," Ayla agreed, smiling at him. "I'd rather not be interrupted again. Now, seriously, what did the Arl say? Did he not tell you to stay away from me?"

Alistair sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He could see the hurt lurking in her eyes, and he really did not want to have to tell her this, but he knew he had no choice. "Yes, he did, actually. Aedan and I . . . we didn't tell you everything earlier. The Arl wants me to be King. That's part of what we're calling the Landsmeet for, so we can get everyone to back me instead of Loghain before we go up against the darkspawn. And . . . if I don't agree, the Arl will support Loghain instead."

Ayla nodded slowly, her face expressionless again. "So you agreed, then. You're going to be King."

"Well, yes, I agreed, but no, I'm not going to be King if I can help it," Alistair answered. Seeing her raised eyebrows, he explained, "Aedan and I decided that for now, we'll let the Arl think that I'm going to be King so he won't support Loghain. Once we get to the Landsmeet, Aedan is going to talk to Anora – Cailan's wife – and see if she will take the throne without her father, Loghain. That way, I won't be King, but neither will he."

"And you think this will work?" Ayla asked quietly.

_I'm praying to the Maker it will_ , Alistair thought, before answering, "Aedan thinks it will. He doesn't believe Anora was involved with Loghain's plots, and he says she was a good Queen. Anyway, we have some time to work on it. We still have to get to Orzammar and back before we can even call the Landsmeet."

Ayla folded her arms, nodding as she seemed to be considering everything. "Okay. But you still have not answered my question. If Arl Eamon thinks you're going to be King, he must not want me around, right?"

Alistair went over and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. He hoped that holding her would make them both feel better throughout this conversation. "He doesn't want me to be with you, no. I tried to explain to him how I felt, just to see if he would care that I want to be with you, no matter what, but he wouldn't listen. He doesn't think you're a suitable match for a King. I'm sorry, love." He kissed the top of her head, his heart aching that he even had to say such things to her.

She sighed, leaning her head against his side. "I suspected as much. Given what he knows about me, it's only logical he wouldn't think me appropriate. So does that mean you need to get back to your room before he finds out you're in here?"

He tightened his arm around her. "No. I made a deal with him. I told him that I would agree to stop seeing you when I became King if he allowed me to stay with you until then. He agreed, so I'm allowed to be alone with you as long as we're more discreet about it." He winked at her.

She smiled in response. "I see. Since you never intend to become King, you don't intend to ever actually have to hold up your end of the agreement. But . . ."

"But what?" he asked her softly.

"If you are meant to be King . . . if that's what is best for your country and everyone involved . . . if it's what you want . . . I do not want to be what stands in the way of all that. I – I want you to do what you really want, even if . . ." she shrugged, trailing off, and he was appalled to see the sheen of tears in her eyes again.

"Ayla, no!" he exclaimed, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping both arms around her. " _You_ are what I really want! You and being with the Grey Wardens. Being with you, and being a Warden, those are the only choices I've ever made for myself, the only things I've ever been certain I wanted. If Aedan says that Anora is a good Queen, then I believe him. It is best for Ferelden if they have someone that wants to be on the throne guiding them, and Grey Wardens keeping them safe. I'm meant to protect my country as a Warden, not a King. And . . . I want to stay with you, if . . . you want that, too."

She nodded, smiling at him, though it was a trifle wobbly. "I do, of course I do. I meant it when I said I love you, I just . . . I just do not want to be the reason that things go wrong in Ferelden. I think you would be a great King."

He smiled, touched that she thought he wouldn't be a complete failure as King. "Maybe, but I would be a completely miserable King if I couldn't be with you. You and Aedan told me I needed to look out for myself more, and you were right. I need to stop letting everyone else make my decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy. And I don't think an unhappy king would be the best thing for Ferelden."

"You are probably right," she agreed, resting her head against his chest. "Anyway, if this is the decision you have made for yourself, if this is really what you want, that's all I need to know. Because . . . it's what I want, too."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." He leaned down and kissed her lightly. "So . . . since I am allowed to be alone with you now, I had hoped to be with you as much as I can, if you're willing."

She gave him a slow smile, taking his face in her hands and pulling it down to hers for another kiss. "I think you might be able to convince me. You still owe me a day in bed here, after all."

He grinned. "You're right, I do, and as luck would have it, we have a whole day tomorrow before we leave for Orzammar. We'll just have to be . . . discreet about it. And just in case the Arl comes looking for me tonight, I suppose I should go back to my own room for now." He knew that the Arl had allowed the relationship for now, but he didn't want it to look as though he was rubbing the Arl's face in it.

"I suppose you should," she agreed reluctantly. "I will just have to sneak into your room again later."

"You'll still be wearing that dress, though, right?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed. "Well, at least until I sneak into your room, I will be. After that, though, I think I will be wearing nothing."

He groaned, kissing her quickly before he lifted her up and set her down on the bed as he stood up. "You really do need to stop teasing me if we're going to be more discreet, you know."

She grinned wickedly at him. "But I do so enjoy it."

He backed towards the door, unable to help smiling at her in response. "I know you do. But I'm leaving for now, okay? Promise me you'll sneak in later."

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I promise."

"Good, because I want you with me, for as long as I can have you," he told her softly, seriously.

"You can have me with you always, if you want," she replied quietly.

Had she really said that? he wondered, marvelling. He had hoped she would say something like that one day, but before he had begun to fear it would never happen. But that was as good as her saying she would agree to marry him, and the very thought made his heart lighter, made it beat faster. "Always it is, then," he agreed, before leaving the room. He would make sure of it. Whatever he had to do, to make this plan work, to keep her, he would do it. It was time for him to be selfish, and do what he wanted, _needed_ , to do for himself.


	32. Orzammar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla and Alistair have some alone time in bed together, where Ayla expresses her concern that they won't be able to remain together, and Alistair convinces her to clear things up with Wynne. After they leave Redcliffe, Ayla and Wynne apologize to one another, and Zevran gives Ayla some disturbing news. The party finally arrives at Orzammar, only to discover they've walked into the middle of a political battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some smut in this chapter as well, if you don't want to read it, simply skip down to the first break after Ayla and Alistair are finished talking.

Chapter 32: Orzammar

She was feeling a great deal better today than she had been last night. Right now, she was feeling supremely comfortable as she was curled into bed next to Alistair, both of them sweaty and spent from their most recent bout of lovemaking that morning. They were, as planned, spending the day together in her room before leaving for Orzammar.

They had made an appearance at breakfast this morning, then made sure that no one would be looking for them. Ayla had told everyone that she was going hunting with Morrigan, and Alistair had told everyone he and Aedan were going to scout for darkspawn. Morrigan and Aedan apparently had similar plans and had been all too willing to provide alibis for all four of them to disappear for the day. After pretending to leave, Ayla and Alistair had carefully snuck back into her room, deciding that there was less chance anyone would come upon them there.

So far, the plan had gone off without a hitch, and they had spent the last few hours wrapped up in each other and their own little world. Ayla had to admit she was enjoying it thoroughly.

"Mmm," she stretched languidly against Alistair's side before snuggling back next to him, laying her head on his shoulder and flopping her arm across his chest. "This was an excellent idea. I could stay here forever."

He tightened his arm around her waist, smiling down at her as he gently brushed some hair back from her face. "Me too. If only we _could_ stay like this forever, but someone would come find us eventually."

"Yes, everyone does seem determined to interrupt or otherwise spoil our time together," Ayla replied, sighing as she thought of the events of last night. She had suspected the Arl would not approve of her relationship with Alistair, but it had still hurt to hear it. And then to have Wynne think the same of her; both had been a hard blow, even if Alistair's opinion did not match theirs.

"You know," Alistair began carefully, "we never did talk about what happened with Wynne. What _were_ you two arguing about before I found you?"

So she told him the whole conversation, as closely as she could remember it. He remained silent throughout her recital, and she finally concluded with, "I just couldn't believe she would accuse me of such things. Implying that I am carrying on with Zevran behind your back! Which I am _not_ ," she added hastily, peeking up at him, suddenly afraid. What if Wynne's suspicions made him have doubts of his own?

But when she met his gaze, there was nothing but trust in his eyes as he squeezed her gently. "I know you aren't. I know I . . . get jealous of him sometimes, but it's not because I think there's anything going on between you two. I just . . . can't seem to help my reaction when he flirts with you." He shrugged. "But I trust you. And anyway, you wouldn't have the time or the energy to be carrying on with him too." He grinned down at her.

"Oh really?" She couldn't help the answering smile that spread across her face as she poked his chest. "You certainly think highly of your abilities, good ser. Think you have me all worn out, do you?"

"Well, I certainly am trying my level best," he said teasingly. "Are you saying you have the energy to go again right now?"

"Of course I do," she replied haughtily, struggling to keep a straight face. As he watched her with sceptically raised eyebrows, she eventually broke down and laughed. "If you give me a few more minutes, anyway."

He smirked triumphantly, making her roll her eyes in response. "That's what I thought." His face sobered as he went on hesitantly, "About Wynne, though . . ."

"What about her?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, you said that she judged you without getting to know you. And it's true, she did, but . . ." He rolled his shoulders, looking uncomfortable, before continuing, "you didn't really give her a chance to get to know you, either. I mean, I've never seen you try to talk to her or anything. How is she supposed to know anything about you if you won't let her?"

"I . . ." Ayla paused, staring at him as she thought about it. Part of her wanted to be annoyed with him for not completely taking her side, but as she thought about it, she started to realize he had a point. She'd had a feeling that Wynne didn't like her, but she'd never tried to correct the situation.

She realized she'd made judgments of her own. Most of the elderly women she'd met in her life had been noblewomen, none of whom had thought much of her. She'd attempted to talk to them at first, tried to get them to change their opinions, but it had never worked. They had been happy to view her as a lesser being, a dangerous shifter.

Eventually, she had stopped trying and started avoiding them instead, unable to take their barbs and veiled insults. So when she'd seen Wynne and felt that the mage might not approve of her, she had assumed that it would be the same. That Wynne would be just like those women, and not care about who she really was, so she'd never bothered to try to change her opinion. She'd avoided talking to her, but she should have known better. Travelling together as much as they were, it was inevitable they would have to have an actual conversation some time; running away wouldn't solve anything.

"All right, you have a point," she conceded grudgingly. "She made snap judgments about me, but I did the same to her. I assumed she would be too close-minded to change her opinion of me, so I didn't bother trying."

"Well, you should," he told her, looking relieved. Probably because she hadn't gotten angry at him, she reflected. "Talk to her, let her get to know you. If you give it a chance, I know she'll like you. And yes, she might give people advice they don't ask for, but she really is a great person once you get to know her. She means well."

Ayla thought back over the conversation she'd had with Wynne, trying to look at it from a logical point of view rather than emotionally. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Wynne had brought the whole thing up because she'd been concerned about Alistair. She might not agree with Wynne's methods, but her heart had been in the right place. And although she didn't like the assumptions Wynne had made about her, she could see how it must have looked to the mage, especially after that dance with Zevran.

"Yes, now that I think about it more, she _was_ just worried about you. I suppose I can't blame her for that, and my friendship with Zevran probably did look suspicious from her point of view," she admitted. She let out a breath, before nodding at Alistair. "All right, I'll talk to her, and apologize for my part in it. Just for you."

He grinned widely at her, rewarding her with a quick kiss. "Have I told you that I love you?"

"Hmm," she pretended to think about it, struggling not to smile. "I think you might have mentioned it, once or twice."

"I did?" he said, feigning surprise. "Well, it won't kill you to hear it again, will it?"

She laughed. "No, I suppose it won't." She kissed him slowly, sweetly, pulling back to murmur, "I love you too."

And she really did. As much as she never thought she would feel this way, and as much as it was against her better judgment, she couldn't help but love him with everything she had, and she wanted to do something to show him how much. She sealed her lips to his again before he could say whatever it was he'd been about to, kissing him thoroughly, trying to convey her love for him without words, until he moaned beneath her.

Only then did she pull her mouth away, trailing it down to his jaw, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses all the way up to his ear. She sucked slowly on his ear lobe before moving to his neck. For once she didn't use her teeth, merely kissing and gently sucking, moving her way down to his chest, paying special attention to the bruises she'd gifted him with earlier. She could feel his heart rate picking up and suddenly his hands swept down to grasp her bottom, squeezing hard.

Before he could scoop her up like she knew he planned to, she pressed her hand to his chest and lifted her head, shaking it at him. "No."

He paused, looking at her, his eyes dark and dazed. "What do you mean, no?"

She cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb over his bottom lip. "I want to go slow, this time. Let's not rush it, okay?"

He blinked, obviously confused. "But – I thought – you said you liked it when . . . things were rough. You know - faster and . . . harder." He was flushing red, and she found it both endearing and amusing that he still had so much trouble talking about their lovemaking when he had no trouble doing it.

She smiled, nodding slowly. "I do, but we have already done that a few times this morning. So I thought we could take our time for once. Especially since . . . everyone seems to want to end our time together."

He sucked in a breath, his expression suddenly pained as his hands swooped back up to cradle her face. "Ayla . . . _no one_ is going to end our time together. We won't let them – _I_ won't let them, I promise you that. All right?"

He sounded so firm, so assured, that her heart swelled and flooded with warmth. And his sudden air of confidence was most certainly attractive. "All right," she agreed. "We won't let them. But still . . ."

"You want to take it slow," he finished for her. She nodded. "Your wish is my command, then." He dropped his hands back to his sides, looking up at her expectantly.

"You can still touch me," she told him gently, swinging her leg over his hips to straddle him, planting her hands on either side of his head. "Just . . . don't rush me."

She leaned over him, lowering her head back to his collarbone, smiling in pleasure when she felt his rough, calloused hands run gently along her back, rubbing slow circles there, sweeping over her skin. She continued along his chest, kissing slowly, sucking gently, moving back and forth as she made her way down his body. She trailed her hands lightly along his skin every so often, sometimes scraping feather-light with her nails.

In spite of – or perhaps because of – the torturously slow pace she was employing on him, he was breathing more rapidly, his chest rising and falling quickly underneath her mouth. She could feel him struggling to hold himself back, to keep his hands on her body gentle and slow. When she rocked her hips lightly against his, he surged against her, and she could feel him hardening in answer.

She slid her hands tantalizingly close to his erection, and when his breath hitched, she smiled slyly and reversed direction, heading back up his torso. He was staring at her wide-eyed, heat blazing in the depths of his gaze as she claimed his mouth again, coaxing a response from him, soothing him with gentle hands when his mouth grew desperate beneath hers.

When she pulled away from him and sucked on his neck again, he groaned. "You really are going to kill me."

She peeked up at him, grinning. "It wouldn't be such a bad way to die, would it?"

"I could not think of a better way to go." He slipped his hands between their bodies, running them up and over her breasts, kneading gently. When she leaned back to allow him better access, he rubbed his thumbs over her hardening nipples with slow, ghosting touches.

She gasped, feeling the ache building between her legs, suddenly unable to concentrate on what she'd been doing. He sat up slightly, his mouth closing over one nipple, sucking and flicking lightly back and forth with his tongue while his other hand continued to rub. "Is this payback?" she asked weakly, as the heat and pressure in her body increased with every touch of his hands and mouth.

He pulled back, grinning at her. "I don't know what you're talking about." His hands slid down her abdomen. Before he could reach his destination, she manoeuvred into position and lowered herself onto his length, letting him fill her. They both moaned when she was settled into place, his hands tightening on her waist, hers braced on his chest.

There was a part of her that wanted to forget what she'd just told him and ride him fast and hard, but she stubbornly ignored it. Instead, she began a slow rise and fall of her hips, almost letting him slip from her completely before she would roll her hips back down exquisitely slowly. He clutched her waist tightly enough to bruise, obviously struggling to keep from speeding her up.

But it was worth it, she decided, tipping her head back as she continued her steady pace. The slow burn building in her blood felt incredible, and she closed her eyes to savor the sensation. She was concentrating on it so much that she failed to notice his hand move until his fingers found her, rubbing feather-light over her achingly sensitive nub as she rode him.

Her eyes flew open. "Alistair," she gasped, staring down at him. She could feel the heat coiling low in her belly, her body starting to shake from the added touch of his fingers.

"Something you need, my love?" he grinned at her wickedly, his fingers keeping up their relentless slow, steady pressure.

"I –" she couldn't seem to think, could only feel her body winding tighter and her release building. "You. I only need you," she managed at last. She watched his eyes darken with lust, felt as he pressed down just that little bit harder and her body shattered around him, making her cry out.

Before she had quite recovered, he had somehow flipped them over and was thrusting in and out of her, long, slow strokes, keeping up the steady pace she had started. "You have me," he told her, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. "Always, remember?"

"Always," she agreed breathlessly, rising up to meet him, clutching him to her. She swallowed his cry into her mouth when he finally spilled within her, held him close when he collapsed on top of her, relishing briefly in the crushing weight of him before he rolled to the side, pulling her with him. She wasn't going to let anyone end their time together. He was hers and she was his and that was the way it was going to stay.

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"Now is as a good a time as any," Alistair pointed out. They were back on the road the next day, heading north to Orzammar, a journey which could take them as long as a month, according to Aedan. The day was a fine one, with the sun shining down on them out of the clear sky, although the air was cool, reminding them that winter was coming fast.

"I suppose you're right," Ayla replied reluctantly, looking ahead to where Wynne was walking by herself. She and Alistair were at the back of the group, Aedan, Morrigan and Striker at the head, with Wynne, Leliana, Sten, and Zevran walking at varying paces between. Though she _had_ promised to apologize to Wynne, she didn't really have any enthusiasm for the task.

"You did promise," Alistair reminded her gently, nudging her arm. "And if I can promise to try to get along with Morrigan . . ."

"Okay, okay," Ayla groaned. "I'm going already, see?" She picked up her pace in order to catch up to Wynne, throwing a glare over her shoulder at Alistair, who merely smiled in return.

She cleared her throat when she drew up next to the elderly mage. "Wynne, might I have a moment?"

Wynne glanced over at her, surprise and what looked like sincere regret stamped on her face. "Yes, of course you can. I had actually meant to talk to you as well; I wanted to apologize for the other night."

Ayla was surprised and felt more than a little guilty as well; Alistair had been right. She had misjudged Wynne. "So did I, actually. Alistair has pointed out to me . . . that I may have been a little quick to judge you, also." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly before continuing, "I probably overreacted a little, too. I wasn't in the best of moods that night, and I'm afraid I may have taken it out on you. I should not have said the things that I did. So . . . I am sorry."

Wynne smiled at her warmly. "Apology accepted. I am sorry, also. I made comments that I should not have, as well. You were correct that I made assumptions about you without knowing whether or not they were true. I admit that your friendship with Morrigan," frowning ahead at the woman in question, "may have had a great deal to do with coloring my opinion of you."

Ayla grinned, knowing that both mages had an equally low opinion of each other. "You know, she's not as bad as you think she is, either."

Wynne scoffed in obvious disbelief. "I am afraid you will never be able to convince me of that. Regardless, I should not have judged you by the company you keep. I should have tried to get to know you myself."

Ayla nodded slowly. "Well, I probably would not have let you. I admit I was avoiding you, which probably did not help you think any better of me. I have never really . . . met an older woman I could respect or like. Only catty noblewomen who hated me. I assumed you would be the same as them, and thought it easier to avoid you. That was my fault."

Wynne chuckled. "Well, there is one thing I am most certainly not, and that is a noblewoman. And I would like to believe I am not catty, either." The mage paused, walking along for a moment in silence before continuing, "Shall we start over, then? Wipe the slate clean between us, and try to get off on the right foot?"

"I'd like that," Ayla agreed. But there was still one other thing to clear up, first. "About Zevran . . . I can see how my friendship with him looked suspicious, but I assure you that there truly is nothing going on between us."

Wynne sighed. "I realize that. Honestly, I had nothing solid to base my suspicions on; it was merely that you did not dismiss him out of hand when he flirted with you, as most would do. And well, the dance when Alistair was not around worried me, I admit, but there was nothing untoward about it."

"It was just a dance between friends. I had wanted something to distract me," Ayla replied softly. "The Arl was in the process of telling Alistair how I am not suitable for him; I needed to keep my mind off of it."

"Oh," Wynne raised her eyebrows, regret passing over her features once more. "So the timing of my advice was rather poor, then." The mage hesitated. "That being said, although I apologize for my assumptions, I do still think that this relationship may end up hurting both of you."

Ayla frowned, shaking her head. "You may be right about that, but I can assure you I've thought this through. I have decided that my regret for time lost if something happens would be more painful than simply losing him. So . . . we will have to agree to disagree, on that one."

"Fair enough," the mage conceded. "In the interest of getting to know one another, tell me a little more about yourself, then."

So Ayla told her a little about her time growing up in Fallor, her father and her brother and some stories about what Fallor was like. She did leave out a few things, such as the actual location of Fallor and the circumstances of her father's death, things too personal and painful to share just yet. In return, Wynne told her a few things about her time in the Circle.

Eventually, Aedan called a quick halt so that they could rest and have a bite to eat. Thanking Wynne for the talk, Ayla went to rejoin Alistair, but before she could make her way over to him, Zevran caught her arm. "Might I have a quick word, my dear?"

"Sure," Ayla replied, not missing the urgency in the elf's gaze. Whatever it was, he felt it was important. She looked over at Alistair, sending him a regretful glance and a mouthed 'later', and while he frowned briefly, he nodded in reply. She followed Zevran to a spot just out of earshot of the others. "What is it?"

Zevran dropped her arm, rubbing his hands together and looking slightly uncomfortable. "Ah . . . I am reluctant to tell you this, but I feel you should know." He drew a long breath before continuing, "The Arl approached me yesterday while you were . . . _hunting_." He gave her a wry look, obviously not believing her alibi one bit.

She shrugged and grinned in response, not bothering to excuse herself, before asking, "The Arl approached you? What about?" She couldn't imagine what Arl Eamon would want to talk to Zevran about, but she didn't think it could be anything good.

"He had heard of our dance together the other night," Zevran began slowly, "and he offered to . . . reward me if I agreed to get between you and Alistair."

"What?!" Ayla exclaimed, reeling back in shock. She didn't know what she had expected, but it was definitely not _this_. Hadn't the Arl come to an agreement with Alistair? Why couldn't he just leave them alone until the Landsmeet? "But . . . why?!"

Zevran frowned and shook his head. "He thought that if Alistair caught you and I in a compromising position together, it would be _easier_ for him to . . . make a clean break, as it were. It would be simpler if he believed you did not love him, if he did not have to leave you just because he is becoming king and you are not _suitable_ ," he finished scornfully. "Or that is what the Arl said, in any event."

As much as it hurt to hear of the plan, Ayla did have to admit she saw the logic in it. It _would_ be easier for Alistair to get over her if he could hate her than if he were forced to leave her against his will for duty's sake. That did not mean she had to like it, though, nor was she going to put up with it. "I take it you told the Arl no, then?" she asked softly.

Zevran snorted. "Of course I did, my dear. I told him it would not work, as you had already turned me down more than once, and it would not be worth my life to try it, either. I did not bother to explain to him that I would never take payment to hurt a friend in such a way; I doubt he would have believed that."

"Only because he doesn't know you, Zev," Ayla murmured, touched at his words, and annoyed with the Arl for thinking so little of all of them. "Did he not swear you to silence, then?"

Zevran grinned, eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. "Oh, to be sure, he demanded that I not tell Alistair of our discussion. He made no mention of not telling _you_ , however. I played the part of the scorned lover quite well, I believe," he added. pressing a hand to his forehead dramatically.

Ayla grinned in spite of herself. "I'm sure you did."

"However," the elf continued, "just because I am unable to tell Alistair, it does not mean that you cannot."

Ayla shook her head. "No, I don't want Alistair to know, not yet. He cares for Arl Eamon; it would hurt him if he found out about this. There is no need for him to know unless the Arl tries something else."

"Are you sure about this, my dear?" Zevran asked softly, frowning. "It is up to you, of course, but . . ."

"I'm sure," she replied, determined not to come between Alistair and Arl Eamon unless she had to. The Arl was only doing what he thought was right for Alistair and his country, after all. If he pushed it any farther, however, she wouldn't hesitate to do what she thought was right, either. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Thank you for telling me, Zev. And thank you for being such a good friend."

"You are most welcome, Ayla." He smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in turn. "After all, what are friends for?"

"To help, as I will help you if you ever should need it," she told him sincerely. "Or to listen, if you need someone to talk to," she added significantly. "About anything."

He smiled sadly, a faraway look in his eyes. "And perhaps I will take you up on that, one day. Not just yet, however."

"Of course not," she said softly. "Whenever you're ready."

She made her way back over to Alistair, sinking down next to him with a sigh, leaning her head against his shoulder. Sadly, he was wearing his plate armor again, and she already missed the warmth of his skin. "What's the matter?" he whispered in her ear. "You looked . . . troubled, when you were talking to Zevran."

She sighed heavily, reaching for her share of the bread, dried meat and cheese before settling back next to him. "It's nothing."

"Ayla . . ." she heard the warning note in his voice as he went on, "we weren't going to lie to each other, remember?"

"It's not my secret to tell," she told him at last, meeting his eyes and pleading with him silently to understand.

"All right," he conceded, nodding at her. "But if there's anything I can do . . ."

"I will tell you," she promised him. When he turned back to his meal, apparently satisfied, she began to eat as well, though she didn't have much of an appetite. She hoped that the Arl was done trying to split them up, and she would never have to tell Alistair. He had more than enough to worry about as it was.

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At long last, Alistair thought, they were finally at Orzammar. The journey here had been a long and exhausting one, particularly for him, Aedan and Ayla. They had followed the planned watch schedule of the three of them dividing the night amongst themselves the entire way here.

As a result, none of them had had a full night's sleep since leaving Redcliffe. It had paid off, however. Between that and the other precautions they'd set up, they had managed to thwart two surprise attacks by darkspawn in the middle of night, as well as one by a roving group of bandits, with no one being seriously hurt. They'd met a few obstacles during the day as well, including a short skirmish with some bounty hunters on the way up the mountain, but nothing they couldn't handle with the full strength of their group.

He was more than glad, though, that they'd finally arrived at the dwarven city. It would be especially nice to get out of the cold and the snow that swirled around them, particularly since night was approaching. Once they were safe within its walls, they could find an inn and finally have a full night's uninterrupted sleep. Maybe a couple of nights, if they were lucky. Despite the disturbing rumours they'd heard on their way about the gates to Orzammar being closed due to some political matter, he hoped that they would be really lucky, and the dwarves would promptly agree to honor the treaty, with no complications this time.

They finished trading with all the merchants that had gathered before the gates before finally making their way to the impressive front gate. A large stone ramp with two approaches led the way up to the gate itself, a massive sculpture of stone with many pillars that stretched high into the sky, surrounding the metal doors that led into the mountainside. Doors that were firmly closed and flanked by many dwarven guards, Alistair noted with a sigh.

His hopes of an easy resolution to this treaty were being rapidly dashed, particularly when they got close enough to see a group of humans, the soldier in the lead arguing loudly with a dwarven guard.

Aedan stopped their group a few feet away from the arguing dwarf and human, just as the dark-haired, heavily armored dwarf slashed his hand impatiently through the air. "Veata! This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time."

"King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly!" the human soldier retorted. He had short brown hair and wore splintmail and a longsword. He was flanked by a mage and another warrior in plate mail. Just what they needed, Alistair thought, rolling his eyes, more of Loghain's soldiers. "I am his appointed messenger."

"I don't care if you're the king's wiper," the dwarf retorted scornfully. Alistair suppressed a snort of laughter, catching the amused gleam in Ayla's eyes as well. "Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled."

Aedan apparently decided now was a good time to interrupt, stepping forward and clearing his throat. "Excuse us, but we have urgent business. May I ask why your people have retreated like this?"

"They hide because they are dwarves," the soldier snapped disdainfully, glaring at the dwarven guard.

The guard returned the glare in equal measure, looking as though he'd very much like to shut the soldier up. "I would challenge any race to fare as well. Our king is dead. Endrin Aeducan returned to the Stone not three weeks ago. The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it is not settled soon, we risk a civil war."

_And there we go_ , Alistair mused, sighing inwardly. The one person they needed to honor their treaty was dead. This was definitely not going to be the easy, short trip he'd hoped for. He saw Aedan's shoulders slump slightly before he straightened up, replying, "That is most troubling, but I am afraid that the Grey Wardens need their traditional dwarven allies." Aedan dug in his pouch, producing the treaty for the dwarves and handing it to the guard, who opened it and began to read over it silently.

The human soldier's eyes widened in shock as he stared at them, before shouting, "The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!"

Aedan ignored the man altogether, as did the dwarf as he finished reading and looked up. "Well, that is the royal seal. That means only the Assembly is authorized to address it. Grey Wardens, you may pass." He stepped back, gesturing to the metal doors behind him.

But of course, Loghain's man wasn't finished yet. "You're letting in traitors? And foreigners?" he demanded incredulously. "In the name of King Loghain, I demand that you execute this . . . stain on the honor of Ferelden!" He finished up by pointing an accusing finger at their group.

Alistair scowled, sick of hearing about the Wardens being traitors, but before he could say anything, Aedan snapped back, "Watch who you call traitors! Loghain is the traitor who killed King Cailan at Ostagar!"

"What? L-lies and slander!" the soldier stammered. "King Loghain will not suffer this! I will not suffer it. I'm his messenger!"

"He probably only sent him all this way because he's so bloody irritating," Ayla muttered under her breath.

Alistair noticed the soldier was reaching for his sword, clearly beyond furious that they were getting into Orzammar and he wasn't. He reached for his sword as well, slipping carefully in front of Ayla.

"Kill each other as you will, but take your sodding fight off my doorstep!" the dwarf shouted, pointing away from the gate.

"You heard him, away from the gate!" Aedan yelled, turning and heading back down the ramp. Alistair and the others followed suit, as did Loghain's men, before they all met at the bottom of the ramp.

Alistair went immediately for the mage, who'd been readying a spell, blasting him with a smite. The spell fizzled out, but the mage was quick to aim an arcane blast at him, which he blocked with his shield. Before he could reach the mage himself, however, Ayla came up behind the man and slit his throat with one of her swords. A fountain of blood sprayed over Alistair as the mage dropped to the ground.

He looked around quickly, seeing that the other two soldiers had rapidly fallen as well; no surprise, considering they'd been outnumbered more than two-to-one. He couldn't imagine what had possessed them to start the fight in the first place. He sheathed his sword and wiped at the blood on his face. "Thanks, love," he said wryly.

She grinned at him. "You're welcome," she teased, taking a cloth out of her pouch and wiping his face off for him. "I thought I'd save you from the big bad mage."

"I think I had it handled," he replied, unable to help smiling back at her, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers.

"All right, let's go," Aedan called from behind them. "I want to get into Orzammar before dark!"

Alistair dropped Ayla's hand regretfully, and they followed Aedan back up the ramp to the dwarven guard, who nodded in approval at them. "You've done me a service. That fool Imrek was barking for a week. Are all humans so touched?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued on, "You are free to enter Orzammar, Wardens, though I don't know what help you will find."

"Thank you." Aedan bowed low. "We are honoured to be allowed entry."

The doors were opened by the other dwarves guarding them as Aedan led the way through them into the mountainside. Just inside the doors was a large cave that had been turned into a stone hall, the only evidence that they were inside a mountain the still-rocky roof above their heads. The rest of the hall was made up of intricately carved stone walls, pillars, and statues which stood all along the sides. Rivers of lava flowed down the center of some of the pillars and continued on into the base, disappearing somewhere below. Banners dangled down from the roof, and dwarves wandered the length and breadth of the hall, admiring the statues along the way.

The guard just inside the door nodded at them as it clanged shut behind them. "Atrast vala, Wardens. Your arrival is a mixed blessing. We prefer that outsiders not witness our infighting, but your presence will be tolerated."

"We appreciate being given this chance," Aedan replied formally, before heading down the stairs to the floor below, motioning for everyone to follow.

"Do you know what all the statues are for?" Ayla whispered as they walked by one on their left that was brandishing a stone axe in its hand.

"Those statues are dwarven paragons, if I remember right," Alistair murmured back. "The best of their ancestors. I've heard they worship them in the place of gods."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? That's interesting, I've never heard of anything like that before. The craftsmanship is impressive, though."

Alistair nodded in agreement as they made their way down the length of the hall, passing the dwarves who eyed them curiously. The intricate details on each of the statues and pillars that they passed was fascinating; he'd never seen anything like it before.

Finally, they approached the large double doors at the other end of the hall, which were pushed open by more guards, allowing them passage through into the main city of Orzammar itself. Alistair barely had time to register the awe-inspiring size of the place, an immense cavern that stretched far above their heads, before he heard the sound of several voices raised in anger.

Just ahead of the alcove they were entering from, in front of a long stone bridge that stretched to a large building in the centre of Orzammar, were two groups of armed dwarves, facing each other and shouting, hostility permeating the air around them.

"Oh, fantastic," Aedan grumbled as they stopped several feet away. "What in the Maker's name is going on now?"

An elderly, grey haired dwarf, one of the few not wearing any armor but rather finely crafted clothing, stepped forward to confront another dwarf. "It is the Assembly who makes a king, and a king who nominates his successor. None of it is carried in the blood."

The blonde, armored dwarf he was facing snorted in response. "Or as now, when someone tries to use the Assembly to throw a coup. Who's to say what my father said in his final hours when the usurper Harrowmont was the only one by his side?"

"I'll have you thrown in prison!" the older dwarf snapped in response.

"You've bitten off more than you can chew!" the blonde dwarf snarled back at him. Alistair was pretty certain this whole thing was about to come to blows very shortly.

Another dwarf stepped forward, trying to intercede. "Handlers! Separate these deshyrs in the Diamond Quarter! I will not have Bhelen incite a riot!"

A dwarf standing opposite him, next to the younger blonde dwarf, pulled an axe off his back, shouting, "You will not speak that way about the man who should be king!" Without warning, he advanced forward in a few quick steps, knocking the legs out from under the dwarf, sending him crashing to the ground. Before he could recover, the axe descended into his chest, blood spurting up as the dwarf let out a pained cry.

The older dwarf and his supporters, who had been closest to the now dead dwarf, backed up in shock and surprise, before fleeing to the right down a set of stairs. The dwarf who'd delivered the blow, and the blonde he'd defended, stood for a moment staring after the others before turning and heading off in the opposite direction.

"'Tis obviously a struggle for power," Morrigan commented from where she stood next to Aedan.

"It appears to be a fight over the throne," Zevran observed, nodding in agreement. "In Antiva, they would have merely called on the Crows to assassinate one another, rather than coming to open blows. Much more civilized, no?"

"Oh, certainly, Zevran," Leliana replied sarcastically. "Assassinating each other sounds like a much better idea."

"If they would but follow the Qun, such conflict over leadership would be unnecessary," Sten added.

Aedan groaned aloud, covering his face with a hand and shaking his head. "Dwarven politics! My father told me they were by far the most difficult to deal with."

Alistair sighed as he watched the remaining dwarves who'd been on guard deal with the mess left behind. No, this was not going to be a short or easy trip. On the positive side, though, maybe they'd get several nights of rest in an actual inn. "Welcome to Orzammar, I suppose," he remarked wryly.


	33. The Stubbornness of Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their arrival in Orzammar, the party discusses what they should do in order to get the treaty fulfilled, eventually deciding that they must back a candidate for the dwarven throne. After some discussion, the party decides to back Prince Bhelen, and the first task they are given to gain his trust leads them to the Deep Roads. This leads Ayla to discover how the Wardens "retire", leading to an argument between her and Alistair before the party leaves for the Deep Roads.

Chapter 33: The Stubbornness of Dwarves

Alistair watched as Aedan sighed wearily, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair before turning to look at all of them. "Well, let's get going. We'll look around for an inn to stay at for the night while we gather a bit of information about what's going on in Orzammar. We can see what the merchants here have to offer, as well; they might have some useful information."

They nodded and began to follow Aedan through the city, which was constructed entirely of stone, from top to bottom. They followed the streets and bridges built of stone over the flowing lava beneath as they made their way around, speaking to some of the dwarves in the streets, and checking out the wares at some of the stalls along the way. The roof of the cavern that housed Orzammar was so high that it was lost in shadow, yet Alistair could still feel its presence overhead, as well as the lack of sunshine and sky. Orzammar had a certain beauty in its well-constructed stone buildings and in the waterfalls of lava that flowed down here and there throughout the city, but he didn't think he could ever live underground like this even so.

While they were all split up between various stalls, speaking to the merchants and deciding what to buy, Alistair noticed Aedan purchase a golden-backed mirror at the next stall over, carefully tucking it away into his pack. He frowned, wondering what use his fellow Warden could have for such a thing. A present for Morrigan, perhaps? He couldn't really see the witch wanting it, though.

But a present might not be such a bad idea, he mused, looking over at Ayla next to him. She was studying the weapons laid out on the counter before them, turning some over, picking others up and setting them down. He tugged on the end of her braid, and she turned back to look at him, smiling. "What is it?"

"Do you want some new swords?" he asked her softly, drawing her closer to him, partly out of habit and partly just because he missed her. They hadn't had much time together over the last month. "The dwarves are renowned for their blacksmithing abilities, you know."

She considered it for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I'm quite fond of my own swords, thank you." She patted the hilts. "They are a family heirloom, after all, and I'm quite used to the weight and feel of them. I could use some more daggers, though."

"Well, let's get you some, then. There's a smith right over there, he'll likely have a better selection." He nodded at a shop across the way, guiding her over there.

They went into the smith's, and had a look over his selection, which was rather impressive, while Alistair casually pressed him for information. They ended up purchasing several new throwing daggers for Ayla, as well as a new longsword for Alistair himself. They rejoined the others outside after they were done.

"So why the shiny new weapons?" Ayla murmured as they followed Aedan towards a large building that they were hoping was an inn. "Are you trying to bribe me or something?" She grinned teasingly at him.

"No, but if it inspires you to give me something in return, feel free," he told her, waggling his eyebrows to make her laugh. "It's just a present, a thank you for being so patient with all these Warden problems. And you will likely end up needing them, going by past experience with these treaties."

"You are most welcome, good ser," she replied, before adding seriously, "but you don't need to give me anything, you know."

"I know, I just wanted to." Before he could say anything further, Aedan stopped in front of them, bringing the rest of them to a halt at the base of the stairs leading up to the stone building they'd been making their way to, built against the cavern wall.

"Tapster's Tavern," Aedan announced, studying the sign swaying above their heads. "This is the only place I've seen that looks like it might offer beds to stay for the night. We might as well check it out."

They headed up the stairs through the door into the tavern. It was dark, crowded, and smelly inside, packed to the brim with kegs, stone tables and chairs, and drunken dwarves carrying around massive mugs. The building itself seemed to have actually been constructed into the cavern wall, as there were outcroppings of rock sticking up out of the floor or plunging down from the ceiling. Torches hanging off the walls or the rocks provided the only light in the tavern, and two dwarves were up on a flat dais at one side of the room, loudly and drunkenly singing in their own language. They found an empty table to sit at while Aedan went to talk to a dwarven woman behind the bar opposite the dais.

Alistair wrinkled his nose as they sat down. "What's that smell? Dwarven vomit? Charming."

"Dwarven vomit," Ayla agreed, looking both amused and faintly disgusted, "among other things."

"I wish I could understand what they were singing," Leliana sighed, studying the two dwarves stumbling around the stage.

"My dear Leliana, I do not believe _they_ understand what they are singing," Zevran replied, smirking.

Aedan returned at that moment, sinking down onto a stone chair next to Morrigan. "Luckily, they do happen to have rooms here that we can stay in while we're here. However long that happens to be." He sighed, leaning back against the chair. "She's bringing us over some supper as well."

"What's our next move?" Alistair asked.

"They're holding another assembly early tomorrow morning, according to one of the merchants," Aedan answered. "We'll take the treaty there and see what they have to say. You and I should go, for sure, but everyone else is welcome to do whatever they like for the day, until we have more solid plans." He hesitated for a moment, before going on, "If the Assembly does not settle things soon, we may have to help things along."

Alistair frowned, studying him. "What do you mean? Wardens aren't supposed to interfere in political matters or side with anyone."

"I know that," Aedan snapped back, before shaking his head wearily. "I just don't think we'll have much of a choice. If the dwarves don't have a leader, who will give us the troops we need? And we don't have time to wait for them to fight a civil war over it, either."

"It may not be what Wardens are supposed to do," Wynne began carefully, "but it does seem like your best choice. Speaking to the citizens, it sounds like things are chaotic. The two of you may have to help bring order to the chaos."

"I suppose you're right," Alistair agreed reluctantly. He didn't really like the idea of having to interfere in politics, but weren't they going to do the same thing with Loghain, anyway? And it was true they didn't have time to wait for the dwarves to take several more weeks to decide things on their own. "But who do you think we should side with, then?"

"Well," Aedan began, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table, "from the information we've gathered, we have two choices. There's Bhelen, the former king's only remaining son, or Harrowmont, his trusted general. If we were going by human rights of succession, Bhelen would be the obvious choice, but dwarven successors are chosen. They do not automatically inherit. And some are saying that Harrowmont is the old king's choice over his own son."

"Others are saying that this Harrowmont was the only one by the king's side when he supposedly said this," Morrigan pointed out. "He could merely be using this opportunity to seize power."

"True, but I heard also that many of the dwarves believe Bhelen killed his oldest brother and framed his other brother for the crime," Ayla added. "If the old king believed that, he may very well have picked someone else to succeed him."

"This Bhelen sounds more like an Antivan than a dwarf," Zevran remarked. "There were other rumors that he may also have helped his father along."

"We should maybe look at what they want to do with their power once they get it," Alistair suggested. "Since we don't know what the truth is behind who did what or who said what. Most of the merchants seemed to be supporting Bhelen, since he is pushing for free trade with the surface, while Harrowmont wants to close off trade."

Aedan nodded as he took the plate and drink the barmaid offered him, as she moved around the table setting out their supper. "That is a good point, Alistair. We would likely never be able to find out the truth behind what has already happened, but we can try to figure out which one would be better for Orzammar. A lot of the dwarves were saying Harrowmont is a traditionalist, not likely to change anything. While I've heard Bhelen may also be interested in abolishing that archaic caste system the dwarves like to go by. Which makes me inclined to lean towards him. However, we don't have to decide anything right now."

"You should wait until this Assembly," Leliana offered. "They may both be there, and you can see what each one is like in person before you decide. Besides, you may not have to take sides if you are lucky."

"Meeting them in person is a good idea, if we can manage it," Ayla agreed, nodding. "I'd like to get the measure of them both."

Alistair knew she wanted to use her instincts to get a feel for both of them, as she had with Zathrian, before backing either of them up, and he couldn't blame her. If they did end up having to interfere and put one of the dwarves on the throne, it would be a huge decision to make, especially for a people not their own.

"That is probably best, if we can meet with them in person. We will wait, then," Aedan decided. "Anybody who wants to come along to the Assembly, meet me down here at dawn. Otherwise, you're free to do as you like until Alistair and I come back."

The others all offered various forms of agreement as they finished their supper. Alistair, meanwhile, sincerely hoped that they would find an easy answer at the Assembly tomorrow, but at least he could look forward to sleeping through the night for the first time in a month tonight. He would worry about the rest of it tomorrow.

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He woke up the next morning, shortly before dawn according to the measured-out candle the dwarves used to tell time, Ayla wrapped in his arms, her back pressed to his front, and sighed with contentment. The dwarven bed, though a little short for him, was soft and comfortable, and he'd both missed the feel of a good bed and of having Ayla there when he woke up. As far as he could tell by her steady breathing, she appeared to be still sleeping at the moment.

He slid his hand up along her stomach, relishing in the feel of her soft skin. It had been too long since he'd felt it, what with the both of them sleeping in their armor every night, and having little to no time alone where they weren't trying to sleep. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the delicious scent of the flowered soap she'd used when they bathed last night.

He felt her hand grip his wrist just as he reached her breasts and stop him from going further. "You know we have to meet Aedan right away. It's almost dawn," she rebuked him softly, though she sounded amused.

He didn't reply right away, instead grazing his teeth over her neck, pleased when she shivered in response. "I know. I've missed waking up to you like this, though," he answered her at last.

She turned over in his arms, cradling his face in her hands, her eyes full of soft warmth as she looked at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "It was a rough few weeks," she agreed, "having you right there and yet not having you. But if we get this dwarven treaty figured out, we can spend some time alone together again."

He sighed, kissing her quickly in response. "I suppose we should get going then. Does that mean you're coming with us?"

He rolled out of bed to get dressed and she followed suit, nodding. "I would have nothing to do around here anyway, so I'll come with the two of you to the Assembly. Besides, if our two candidates are there, I'd like to see just what kind of men they are."

He nodded in agreement and the two of them dressed hurriedly before going down to the tavern itself, mostly deserted barring the few patrons sleeping with their heads on the stone tables or floors, to meet Aedan. Morrigan was there as well, along with Zevran, and the five of them proceeded to head to the Diamond Quarter, the section of Orzammar where the Assembly was held.

Alistair learned as they went that Leliana had chosen to stay behind in the hopes of learning as many dwarven songs and tales as possible while they were here. Wynne had wanted some time to rest, as the travel was wearing heavily on her, and Sten had no interest in dwarven politics, so he had chosen to remain behind as well. Aedan had left Striker with him, just in case the dog might have decided to cause problems at the Assembly. The other two had chosen to come along, saying they had nothing else they wanted to do anyway. Alistair thought Morrigan had most likely come along to support Aedan, though she would never admit it, and Zevran had probably come along out of curiosity. He seemed to have a fascination with thrones and politics.

They made their way through the streets to the doors that led up to the next level of Orzammar, where the Diamond Quarter was located. Once up there, they headed toward the Assembly building itself. The Diamond Quarter was made of much finer quality stone than the level below. The streets were empty of the stalls and vendors that crowded them below, instead being filled with well-dressed nobles and criers shouting news about Bhelen and Harrowmont. The buildings were much larger, taller and better built than those below, almost dazzling in their craftsmanship. They asked directions from one of the dwarves, who pointed them to the largest building of all, with a wide entryway of several steps leading up to huge double doors.

Aedan led the way through the doors, into a small stone entryway where Alistair was in danger of nearly bumping his head on the ceiling, through hallways carpeted with green-patterned rugs and walls decorated with blue crystals. Two guards flanked another set of double doors at the end of the hallway, and when Aedan held up the treaty, they nodded and pushed the doors open for their party to pass through. One said sternly, "The assembly is in session. Enter quietly if you wish to observe."

The Assembly room itself turned out to be a high-ceilinged, round room set with many circular layers of seats, all filled with richly dressed dwarves currently yelling loudly at one another. In the empty space in the middle was a harassed-looking, grey-haired dwarven steward, trying desperately to keep order.

"Your mind has gone to dust if you think we would pass such a writ," a dwarven lord shouted from above as they stopped in the middle to watch the proceedings. "Half our houses would go broke without the surface trade."

"The proposal is only effective until we have a king to ensure we are respected by the surfacers!" retorted a second lord.

"Leaving you conveniently positioned to take over all contracts," the first lord sneered in response. "I'll see your head on a pike, first!"

"Deshyrs, lords and ladies of the Assembly," the steward called loudly, his voice ringing with exasperation, "I've already doubled the guards to prevent violence. Must I summon more?"

"Steward Bandelor, Bhelen's sympathizers are tying our hands with trivialities!" the lord shouted back. "They may as well open us to the sky!"

"I suggest we put the matter to a vote," a dwarven lady called out.

"And I suggest you have a taste of my family's mace -" the second dwarven lord snarled.

"Enough!" the steward bellowed, cutting off both the lord and the rising tide of arguments. "The Assembly is in recess until members can gain control of their emotions!"

The steward turned in exasperation and headed out of the room. Aedan gestured to them to follow, and once they were out in the hallway again with the doors closed behind them, he approached the weary-looking Steward Bandelor. "Might we have a moment of your time?" Aedan asked.

"Stone forsaken fools and dusters . . ." Steward Bandelor grumbled to himself, before looking up at Aedan. "I'm sorry. This is the assembly of the Clans. Only deshyrs and occasional guests of state are allowed in."

"Well," Aedan began, "we are actually Grey Wardens, hoping to speak to whoever is in charge of the Assembly. Did they not send word ahead from the front gates?"

"Forgive me, I am so exhausted. I completely forgot about the message from the gate guard," the steward replied, shaking his head. "Welcome to Orzammar, Wardens. I hope you can forgive our unrest. The loss of our king has hit us hard. Respect for your role is great, but you won't receive a proper hearing until we have a king on the throne."

Aedan exchanged a glance with Alistair, and he sighed. Exactly what they'd been afraid of. "A Blight is coming, we need permission as soon as we can get it," Aedan stated carefully. "Who might have the authority to aid us?"

The steward nodded, responding, "Dulin Forender, Harrowmont's man, can be found at the Harrowmont estate. Vartag Gavorn, Prince Bhelen's second, is often here in the Assembly. I only wish there was more I could do for you."

Alistair frowned, noting that the Steward hadn't said anything about meeting Harrowmont or Bhelen themselves, as Aedan asked, "Is there any way we can break this stalemate?"

Steward Bandelor shrugged in response. "I must admit, Warden, I am at a loss myself. It lies with Prince Bhelen or Lord Harrowmont, and they are slow to trust anyone in these uncertain times."

"Well, let us know when they stop bickering," Aedan said at last.

"Not until something forces their hands, I'm afraid. Only Bhelen or Harrowmont can settle this," the steward said with finality.

The five of them turned and walked a little ways away. "Exactly what we thought," Aedan murmured. "We won't be able to do anything about the treaty until one of those two gets on the throne."

"It doesn't sound like we'll have much luck in meeting them face-to-face, either," Alistair added. "At least, not right away. We'll have to find those seconds of theirs, see if we can set up a meeting."

"Right," Aedan nodded. "Well, he said that Bhelen's man is usually here, so let's have a look around."

"Perhaps that is him over there?" Morrigan suggested, indicating an alcove a little ways down, off the side of the hallway, that they had not noticed when they first came in. A dark-haired dwarf with a short beard, outfitted in splint mail, stood there watching the Assembly members leave.

"Let's go find out." Aedan led the way over to the alcove, stopping just in front of the dwarf. Before he could say anything, however, the dwarf spoke first.

"Wardens, welcome. It is always a blessing for Orzammar to host your order. I am Vartag Gavorn, top advisor to our good Prince Bhelen. What news do you bring?"

How had he known who they were already? Alistair wondered, noting the quick jerk of surprise Aedan gave before he recovered and answered, "The darkspawn threaten the surface in great numbers. We need aid against a Blight."

"Yes, the treaty. I've seen it in the shaper's libraries." Vartag shook his head in seeming regret before continuing, "Now, the difficulty is that the treaty only compels our king, and we are sadly lacking one of those right now."

"Yes, so we've heard. Might we talk to Bhelen?" Aedan asked.

Vartag paused for a long moment, and Alistair could see the 'no' coming before he even said it. "You must understand, Harrowmont hides behind his good reputation while sending spies and assassins. Bhelen can't know who to trust. It's been like a knife in the heart for Bhelen to see so many of his father's men stand with the usurper."

Aedan regarded the dwarf, saying at last, "We had heard that King Endrin himself supported Harrowmont."

"That hurts worst of all," Vartag replied, giving a good impression of sorrow, though Alistair didn't quite buy it. "That Harrowmont would take advantage of the dying king's delirium to plant such poisonous suspicions against his own son. After that, you understand why Bhelen cannot trust the word of a stranger. However reputable that stranger might be," he finished slyly.

"So no, then," Alistair muttered under his breath, causing Ayla to laugh softly.

"What must we do to prove our good intentions, then?" Aedan demanded, crossing his arms.

Vartag smiled, as though he'd been hoping for just such an opening. "Harrowmont is engaged in a campaign of bribery and coercion to ensure that every house serves him. But if a neutral party, a stranger, were to approach certain key members, perhaps with irrefutable evidence of Harrowmont's deception . . . I'm certain my lord prince would show his gratitude."

"What kind of evidence do you possess?" Aedan asked wearily.

"Harrowmont promised the same portion of his estate to two different deshyrs, Lady Dace and Lord Helmi. Harrowmont can't possibly grant it to both of them, but they won't find out until after the vote is cast. I have copies of the promissory notes Harrowmont gave each of them." Vartag took a handful of papers out of a pouch, holding them out to Aedan, who took them reluctantly. "Once they see those, they should both reconsider their votes."

Aedan read the notes over for a moment before looking up at Vartag. "We will find Lady Dace and Lord Helmi right now."

A devious-looking smile spread over Vartag's face before he replied, "Lady Dace doesn't leave the quarter much. But Lord Helmi's adventurous, likes to spend his time at Tapsters . . . in the Commons. Remember, don't tell them you got these papers from me. You learned of them and drew your own conclusions."

Aedan merely nodded, before turning and stalking away, gesturing to the others to follow him. Once they were out of the Assembly and on the steps, he stopped and turned to look at them.

"Are we really going to deliver those notes?" Alistair asked. True, they hadn't met Bhelen yet, but his second seemed rather shady.

"I'd rather meet the other second first before making a final decision," Aedan answered. He looked at the others. "What did the rest of you think?"

Ayla shrugged. "This Vartag fellow is not trustworthy, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"That is true," Zevran chimed in. "All it means is that this Bhelen fellow makes use of whatever tool he must to get the job done. Not a bad trait for a King to have."

"I care not which dwarf you pick," Morrigan said dismissively.

"Right," Aedan sighed. "Well, let's see if we can find this other fellow, then."

They had just reached the bottom of the steps outside the assembly when a red-haired dwarf, sporting an elaborately braided beard and full armor, approached them. "I heard there were Grey Wardens here. I am Dulin Forender, second to Lord Harrowmont, King Endrin's own choice as successor. Word is spreading that the surface may suffer a Blight. It is shameful we are not in a better position to help."

_Well, that was easy_ , Alistair thought, as Aedan bowed to the dwarf, saying, "We would like to speak with Lord Harrowmont in regards to the Blight."

"In an ordinary time, Lord Harrowmont would be honoured to meet you," Dulin began, hesitating before continuing, "Unfortunately, we've already caught more than one of Bhelen's spies approaching Harrowmont under a pretence of friendship. So, I'm afraid I won't be able to take your word. If you want to speak to Harrowmont, you will need to prove he can trust you."

Aedan pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious exasperation. An edge of annoyance crept into his tone as he replied, "We have no time for your political games. The treaty compels you to help."

"You're asking the king of Orzammar to send armies to the surface, but Orzammar has no king and we have no army. Right now, the men who should be fighting darkspawn are brawling in the street. If this situation is not resolved, we face civil war! If you want Lord Harrowmont's time now, you'll have to prove you have no intention of turning against him later," Dulin finished, his tone and stance indicating that there was no arguing the point.

Aedan scowled at the dwarf. "So, you would hope that the darkspawn will wait patiently for you to resolve your disputes?"

"If you wish to show you have no loyalty to Bhelen, then work against him in Harrowmont's name," Dulin replied. Alistair wondered if the dwarf had actually heard a word that Aedan had said, as he continued on, "Bhelen is hosting a Proving today, supposedly to honor his father's memory. The deshyrs take it very seriously. And unfortunately, Bhelen found some way to blackmail or intimidate House Harrowmont's best fighters into stepping down."

"Why would the Assembly care which of your fighters wins this tournament?" Aedan asked in an exasperated tone. It seemed both candidates wanted them to prove themselves, when really, Alistair thought, they should be the ones trying to prove _they_ were the right candidates for the throne to _them_.

"The Proving is a contest of the best warriors in Orzammar. By fighting, they show who has the ancestor's favour. If you were to enter the Proving as Lord Harrowmont's champion, it would prove your loyalty beyond a doubt," Dulin answered, as though it were a simple and obvious matter.

Zevran snorted with derision from behind them. "And this is to be your king? One who cannot keep his own men from running like frightened children?"

"Lord Harrowmont does not use threats or intimidation to motivate his men," Dulin snapped at the elf. "He leads by example."

"Ah, I see. So it's his example they follow as they cower from this Prince Bhelen?" Zevran retorted scornfully.

"How dare you slander Lord Harrowmont!" Dulin shouted, stepping forward to confront the elf.

"Why should we ally ourselves with someone too scared to even grant us an audience?" Zevran demanded, not backing down from the dwarf in the slightest.

Aedan stepped quickly between the two, facing Zevran. "I can see what you mean, Zevran, but let me handle this."

"Were I you," Zevran replied, not bothering to lower his voice, "I would seek a stronger king than this Harrowmont."

"He's got a point," Ayla agreed. Alistair turned to look at her in surprise. "They need a strong leader," she whispered so only he could hear.

"Surely you don't mean Bhelen," Dulin exclaimed incredulously, causing Aedan to turn and look at him again.

Aedan looked at the dwarf for a long moment, then at Zevran, Ayla, and Morrigan, before finally looking at Alistair. He shrugged, not knowing what to do now. Dulin seemed like a decent man in comparison to Vartag, but that didn't mean that Harrowmont would be any better of a king than Bhelen. Zevran and Ayla likely had a point, the more he thought about it. Aedan let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before he turned back to Dulin. "I'm sorry," he said at last, "but we cannot support you."

Dulin reeled back in surprise, before anger descended over his face. "Then you and I have nothing more to say," he snapped, before turning and heading back the way he came.

"So, you think Bhelen is the best choice, then?" Alistair asked Aedan quietly as they watched the irate dwarf leave.

Aedan shook his head. "I don't know. His policies sound more like what the dwarves need right now, and he might not be a good person, but . . ."

"That doesn't mean he'll make a bad king," Ayla finished. "As Zevran said, if this Harrowmont can't even keep a few of his own men in line, how can he expect to keep an entire kingdom of stubborn dwarves in line? You saw what they were like in there. If Harrowmont can't stand up to them, they would run rampant over him. It doesn't matter how good of a man he might be if half of his kingdom won't follow him."

"Indeed," Zevran nodded in agreement. "Whereas this Bhelen fellow sounds as though he will be much more likely to be able to make use of what he must to keep things running."

"So Bhelen is not the better man, but he's the one more likely to keep the dwarves from descending into civil war. That's what you're saying?" Alistair asked. When Ayla nodded, he sighed. "Well, if that's what you truly think, then let's go ahead and get this done with."

"Which means we need to start with delivering these notes to Lady Dace and Lord Helmi," Aedan supplied, holding up the papers Vartag had given him. "He said Lady Dace should be up here. Let's find her first, then we can speak to Lord Helmi at the tavern when we go to tell the others what's going on."

They spoke to a few different nobles roaming around in the Quarter before they found one who told them where the Dace House could be found. When they made their way over there, they discovered a dwarven woman just exiting the large house, her brown hair pulled tightly back in a bun, wearing a finely made outfit of silks. "Are you Lady Dace?" Aedan asked.

"What do you want?" she demanded. She looked them over, and without waiting for an answer, continued, "Oh, I suppose you're the Grey Wardens everyone's talking about."

"Yes, we are. We are honoured to make your acquaintance," Aedan replied, sweeping her a bow. He hesitated before handing over one of the papers he'd gotten from Vartag. "You may want to take a look at these papers before the next vote."

Lady Dace read it over before looking up at them in surprise. "Well . . . this isn't exactly a surface broadsheet. Where did you get these?" Aedan opened his mouth to answer, but she shook her head. "Never mind. It is true enough. But there is nothing I can do about it. This deal was made on behalf of our entire house. Only my father can revoke it."

"Where is he?" Aedan asked. "We can bring this to his attention as well."

"He is leading a Deep Roads expedition, trying to secure an ancient thaig," she answered, and Alistair groaned inwardly, already knowing where this was likely to go. "It's unlikely he'll be back before the election, but perhaps this vote is important enough for you to brave the tunnels to tell him? The Dace family would be in your debt."

Alistair saw the slight slump in Aedan's shoulders before he straightened up again, meeting Lady Dace's hopeful gaze. "How would we know where in the Deep Roads to find your father?"

"He was searching an old Aeducan site. He left me with this map, in case his expedition never returned," she explained, pulling a folded, weathered map out of her pocket and handing it to Aedan, along with another, crisper sheet of parchment. "I'll give you a pass as well. Usually, no one is allowed past the front lines. Does that mean you'll go?"

Considering Aedan had already taken the papers she had handed over, the answer should have been obvious, Alistair thought, but Aedan replied anyway, "Yes, we will leave shortly."

"So Bhelen's victory means enough for you to risk your life. How interesting . . ." With that cryptic remark, Lady Dace wandered off into the Quarter.

"Here I was hoping we wouldn't have to go down into the Deep Roads while we were here, but it looks like we have little choice." Aedan stuffed the papers in his pouch before heading to the door leading out of the Quarter, motioning everyone to follow.

"What are the Deep Roads exactly?" Ayla looked back and forth between Alistair and Aedan. "You both look like you're dreading the prospect of going there."

"With good reason," Alistair told her as they walked along, passing a red-haired dwarf in full silver plate armor who was shouting loudly at a dwarven nobleman on their way out. "The Deep Roads used to be part of the dwarven empire, highways carved out underground joining their cities. Now they're just ruined tunnels filled with darkspawn. It's where they live, only coming up to the surface for Blights."

"And it's where we Wardens get to go when we retire," Aedan added, a touch of bitterness in his voice. He hadn't taken it too well the day Alistair had told him about that, but Alistair winced when he brought it up. He'd yet to tell Ayla fully about the "retirement" of the Wardens, and still hadn't been sure if he wanted to or not. He did not want her to hear about it like this.

"Where you go when you retire? What does that mean?" Ayla turned to look at Alistair, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," Alistair said hurriedly, glaring fiercely at Aedan. Aedan's eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded in response to Alistair's unspoken message.

They had just made their way through the door and back down to the Commons, and Ayla stepped in front of Alistair, hands planted on her hips. "We weren't going to lie to each other, remember?"

Alistair groaned inwardly; he _so_ did not want to tell her about this, especially not right now. He waved his hand at Aedan and the others. "Go ahead, we'll catch up to you."

Aedan nodded. "We'll go on ahead to Tapsters and see if Lord Helmi is there to deliver this note, and then find the others to let them know what's going on."

Alistair turned back to Ayla as the others left. She was scowling fiercely at him. "Tell me, Alistair. Why exactly would Wardens go to tunnels full of darkspawn for their 'retirement'?"

Well, there was nothing to do now but tell her, he decided. "Do you remember that I told you the taint eventually claims the Wardens, after about thirty or so years?" When she nodded, he went on, "When we feel it start to come on, we don't just wait for it, because we don't actually want it to take us over. It . . . would turn us into something like darkspawn. So. . . we go alone, down into the Deep Roads, to die fighting darkspawn. We try to take as many as we can down with us before they kill us. That's how we . . . retire. That's what . . . Duncan was planning on doing soon, if the Blight hadn't happened."

Her eyes were wide with shock and horror when he'd finished, a hand over her mouth as she stared at him. "Why . . . why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked at last, her voice unsteady.

He shrugged uncomfortably, not entirely sure of his reasons himself. "Because . . . I didn't want you to worry about it, I guess. Or . . . look at me like that. And, I might not even make it to that point, so it may never be a problem."

"Alistair . . ." He thought he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes, which tore at his heart as it always did, before she shook her head and cleared her throat. "You should worry about yourself with something like this, not me, okay?" She paused, studying him for a long moment before she nodded. "When that happens, I'm going with you."

"What?!" He reeled back in shock. While part of him was touched to hear her say that, he was mostly just horrified at the thought of her sharing the dark fate that awaited him. "No, you're not!"

She scowled at him again, folding her arms across her chest. "And just how do you intend to stop me?"

"I don't know, but I'll figure something out!" He snapped in exasperation, before he went on quietly, "There's no need for you to do that. I don't want you to have to go through that."

Her face softened as she looked at him. "Thank you, but there _is_ a need for me to do that. I might even tell you one day about it." Before he could work out what to say in answer to that, or what exactly she meant, she'd already gone after Aedan and the others to Tapsters, and he had to hurry to catch up to her.

They reached the tavern just in time to see Aedan addressing the rest of the group. "I won't ask anyone to come into the Deep Roads with me. Anybody who wishes to stay is welcome to remain here at the tavern until I get back. It may take a few days. Since we have little time to waste, I will gather up a few supplies and leave right away."

Alistair raised an eyebrow at him as he turned around. "You mean 'we', don't you? You wouldn't survive long down there without me around, since you still have trouble sensing darkspawn at times."

"I'm getting better," Aedan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "But thank you. I . . . could use your help, yes. I just didn't want to drag anyone with me on such a dangerous errand."

"Brother Wardens, right?" Alistair reminded him. Aedan smiled in answer, nodding.

"I will come along as well," Morrigan sniffed. "'Tis a fool's errand, but you will have need of healing magic before you are through, I'm sure."

"I might as well come along, too," Zevran put in cheerfully. "I would be bored in an inn full of nothing but dwarves for three days. It would be far more entertaining killing some darkspawn."

"I will not participate in some foolish dwarven prince's whim," Sten rumbled. "I will remain here."

Aedan nodded. "Will you look after Striker for me, then? I would not want to bring him along in the tunnels."

Sten grunted and nodded in reply, as Wynne declined coming along as well, stating that she was still weary from their travel to get here, which Aedan told her was fine. Leliana offered to come, saying she was happy to help and to see the marvellous sights of the old dwarven highways with her own eyes.

"Of course, I'll come along, too," Ayla added. "You could use the extra senses in a dangerous place, I'm sure."

"All right, everybody go get what you need, and we'll meet back down here in a few minutes," Aedan said. "Thank you, everyone."

As they went back up to their room, Alistair murmured to Ayla, "You know you don't have to come. Aedan and I will be able to keep track of the darkspawn, and it's only a few days. You could stay here with Sten and Wynne."

She turned to him, arching a brow. "You mean I could stay here where I'd be safe?"

"Well . . . yes," he admitted, shrugging. When he saw the dangerous glint in her eyes, he amended hastily, "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. It's just . . . well, I worry about you, and . . . it is kind of a fool's errand in a very dangerous place."

She sighed and shook her head as they reached their room, gathering together the supplies they would need. "I am glad that you worry about me, but I will be fine. And how am I supposed to watch your back if I am not there with you? Besides, my orders were to go where you go, remember?"

"I don't think Duncan had that in mind as a permanent order," Alistair retorted, irritated that she was being stubborn about this when he was only concerned for her safety.

"Well, I didn't hear him give a time limit on it," she snapped back. They glared at each other fiercely for a moment before her shoulders slumped and she sighed, crossing the room to him and wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her into him tightly, his irritation disappearing with her arms around him, burying his face in her hair.

"I worry about you too," she whispered against his chest. "I'm not about to let you go somewhere that dangerous without me, all right?"

"Okay," he agreed after a long moment, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I don't like thinking of you down there, but if that's what you want, then we'll both go."

She looked up at him, nodding firmly. "That's what I want."

"All right." He kissed her, hard and swift, before pulling back. "We'd better get back down there, then, before they leave without us."

They finished packing up their things and headed back down to the tavern. Alistair silently cursed the stubbornness of dwarves as they went. He was not looking forward to entering the Deep Roads; he only prayed that something bad did not happen while they were down there.


	34. Follow You Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party makes their way through the Deep Roads to find Lord Dace and deliver their message; Ayla discovers that she hates being down there, while the Wardens discover that the heavy presence of darkspawn has a negative effect on them. After returning to Orzammar, they finally meet Prince Bhelen only to find that he requires another favor before he can take the throne; the elimination of a cartel run by a woman named Jarvia. The party goes to Dust Town next to track the woman and her cartel down.

Chapter 34: Follow You Into the Dark

It was now the second night since they'd entered the Deep Roads, and they had found a small, semi-open cave to rest in for the night. They had only a very small fire going, for fear of attracting more darkspawn or any of the other creatures that lurked down here. Most of the others were sleeping already, while Ayla, finding herself unable to sleep, was going through the series of stretching exercises taught to her by her former instructor. Her father's style of fighting had been quite different than her own, so he had eventually left her instruction to Pakal, who had helped her develop her current method of fighting. The stretches were designed to keep her limber and agile for her more acrobatic style.

She had found herself doing the exercises far more down here than she normally did, however. She was in desperate need of something to distract her from how much she hated this place. The oppressive feel of the rock tunnels, the lack of fresh air, the constant and overwhelming smells of death, decay and rot, the ever-present darkness broken only by flickering torchlight or firelight, it was all getting to be too much for her. She had not realized just how much she would miss open skies, sunlight and fresh air. The lack of all of the above made her want to break down and panic, so she did her best to keep herself occupied and not focus on where she was.

It also made her wonder why in the Fox's name she had ever told Alistair she would come down here with him when he had to face his inevitable death as a Warden. Did she really want to die down here, so far away from the sun and the sky? Did she want this place, this horrible, dark place, to be the last thing she ever saw? Surrounded by it as she now was, she truly wasn't sure any more.

She was in the middle of one of her stretches, bent over completely backwards, hands planted on the ground, her right foot on the ground while her back was completely arched and her left leg was pointed straight up in the air, when she heard the sound of footsteps and the faint clanking of armor coming towards their cave. Alistair was returning; he'd gone scouting a little ways ahead of them to make sure there were no nearby spiders or creatures that might attack them during the night. She didn't bother to move out of her stretch, certain that it was him; she'd know the sound of that armor anywhere.

She heard a faint groan as he stopped a few feet away from her. "Ayla, _must_ you do that?"

She straightened up back onto her feet, turning around to face him. His eyes were full of blatant hunger as he stared at her, causing an answering hunger to leap within her. It still amazed her sometimes how one simple look from him could take her breath away and fire her blood. And that, she realized, was her answer. That was why she would go and follow him into the dark when he went, because he was her love, her life-mate. It would be his face that would be the last thing she would ever see, she decided, and she would be fine with that, wherever and whenever that might occur.

She still hadn't told him what being a life-mate really meant in her world, or discussed the ceremony that would bond them together. If the bond was very strong, which she suspected theirs might be, she may not be able to survive his death for very long anyway. That is, if he agreed to do the bonding ceremony. It might be a bit much to expect from someone who was not of her world. But if they did become bonded, that would be why it would be necessary for her to go, whether or not he agreed, and she had nearly forgotten that in her panic and anxiety down here.

"Yes, I must," she said at last, "because I need something to distract me, and the other distraction I can think of would be a bit _too_ much. Anyway, you don't have to watch me," she pointed out, smiling.

"As if I could look away," he grumbled. "Besides, you should be sleeping; you need your rest." His face had softened now, his eyes changing from hunger to a more tender warmth and concern for her, which warmed her from the inside out.

"It is hard to relax down here," she replied, glancing at the stone walls around them, "what with so many spiders and lizard creatures and darkspawn around. And so many unusual smells and sounds."

She did not add that his own anxiety was also making it more difficult for her to relax. He had told her last night that even if there were no darkspawn immediately nearby, in the Deep Roads, he could constantly feel the presence of the horde that lived there. He had described it as a constant pressure on his spine, a weight that bore down on him and made it impossible to relax. She had seen it wearing on both him and Aedan; they were having difficulty sleeping when not on watch, and tended to be more jumpy than normal as well.

"I know," he said softly. She did not miss the wince he gave as he rubbed the back of his neck. "But you have to try. Anyway, we should come across Lord Dace sometime tomorrow, and then we can head back and get out of here. So let's try to focus on that."

"I could stay up and keep watch with you," she offered. "I have the next one anyway." As they had done out on the road, they had split the watch between her, Alistair, and Aedan due to the higher danger and risk of darkspawn attack.

He frowned and shook his head. "No, please, Ayla, you need to sleep. I'll be fine; I'll wake you up when it's your turn."

She nodded slowly. "All right, I'll try." First, however, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling it down lower so she could bury her face against his neck, breathing deep of the smell of pine that seemed to hover around him along with his own distinct smell, trying to at least temporarily relieve herself of the smells of rot and decay. He, in turn, buried his face in her hair and held her tightly before they finally pulled apart. After they shared a quick kiss, she returned to her bedroll.

She did not know how long she laid there, trying to relax and think of other things, wishing fervently that they would find what they were looking for the next day and be able to head back to Orzammar soon. She was eventually able to fall into a fitful sleep, Alistair pacing back and forth at the edge of the camp being the last thing she saw before her eyes drifted shut.

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"Why must there be so many of these foul creatures down here?" Morrigan growled as she brushed bits of lizard – or deepstalker, Alistair had called them - off herself.

"I wish I knew." Ayla was also brushing bits of them off, as the lightning spell Morrigan had blasted the last wave with had caused the small, vicious creatures to explode all over the two of them. "I suppose they're better than darkspawn, at least."

"Hmmph," Morrigan snorted as the two of them fell back into line, following the others through the twisting tunnels. More ruins of stone houses, pillars, and bridges were cropping up in this area, meaning they were hopefully getting closer to their destination of this abandoned city, or thaig, as the dwarves called it. "I am not so certain about that; they seem to possess greater numbers even than the darkspawn."

"You may have a point there," Ayla agreed. Though they had run into several bands of darkspawn down here as well, they usually appeared in groups of about half a dozen or so, whereas the deepstalkers attacked in large swarms that were almost impossible to count, but probably lay somewhere in the dozens. Though one in itself was not difficult to defeat, the swarms became much more problematic. Still, they had made it through without serious injury so far.

She looked ahead to where Alistair and Aedan were leading them through the tunnels, just ahead of Zevran and Leliana, who were between them, reassuring herself that none of the group was seriously injured. Though no one appeared to be, she could see the slight hunch to the shoulders of the two Wardens as they walked, and the way they would occasionally roll them as if trying to shrug off a weight. "Is there nothing you can do for them?" she asked Morrigan quietly, nodding ahead to the two of them.

Morrigan shook her head. Ayla could see the worry and concern flash briefly in her friend's eyes; as much as the witch would never admit it, she knew that she was as in love with Aedan as she was with Alistair. "A healing spell would grant them temporary relief from the pain it causes them," the witch replied softly, "but it would come back almost immediately. There is no way to fix it other than getting them away from the darkspawn."

Ayla nodded in response; she had expected as much. "And it would be a waste of your healing spells and lyrium down here to use it on something like that, in case there is a more serious injury."

"'Tis true," the witch agreed. "I do not possess so much lyrium as to use it on something like that when we are under near constant attack."

It was at that moment that Ayla noticed the two Wardens had disappeared around a bend in the tunnel ahead, and she heard Aedan shout something that sounded like "We found them!"

"Come on!" she gestured to Morrigan, breaking into a run as Leliana and Zevran disappeared around the corner ahead, too.

In no time, the two of them reached the area where the others had gone; just around the bend, the small, cramped tunnel opened up into a large cavern that extended far above their heads. The cavern itself was littered with the remnants of many small stone houses and pillars, even a dais in one corner. In the center of the ring of houses was a group of armored dwarves, fighting for their lives against the largest swarm of deepstalkers she had seen yet.

Alistair and Aedan reached the deepstalkers and began attacking just as she and Morrigan came around the corner. Leliana halted ahead of them and began firing off arrows into the crowd of lizards while Zevran ran onwards, launching himself into the fight. Morrigan stopped beside Leliana when they reached her and began to send arcane bolts and icicle blasts into the fight ahead, while Ayla drew her swords and sprinted forward, stabbing a deepstalker going for Aedan's back.

The fight lasted for several minutes before they were surrounded by nothing but dead bodies of lizard creatures. Their party and the dwarves took a few moments to recover their breath. Aedan was just opening his mouth to address the older, grey-haired dwarf that appeared to be the leader, when Zevran shouted, "There are more coming!"

Ayla looked ahead to where Zevran had ended up by a stone bridge beyond the party of dwarves, to see more deepstalkers swarming over the bridge as Zevran skipped back, and more coming out of seemingly nowhere around them. She beheaded one that appeared to her right, and cried out as she felt the jaws of another close around her thigh from behind, finding the patch of bare skin between the skirt of her armor and her boots. Just as suddenly as the teeth dug in, they were gone, and she whirled around to see a now iced-over lizard lying on the ground behind her.

Ignoring both the pain and the blood running down the back of her leg, she nodded a thanks to Morrigan and resumed fighting the deepstalkers as they approached. After several more minutes, the latest swarm lay as dead as the first one. By this time, the throbbing pain in her left leg was reaching new heights, while the blood dripped down onto the rocks behind her. She sheathed her swords, limping painfully over to where Aedan and Alistair stood with the grey-haired dwarf.

"You pulled us from a tight spot, friends," the dwarf said, bowing low. "You have my gratitude. I am Lord Anwer Dace. So what are humans and an elf doing out here, anyway?"

Alistair turned as Ayla approached them, and his eyes shot wide with worry as he spotted her. He was next to her in a second, whispering urgently, "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," she murmured back, nodding to Morrigan who was hurrying up behind her, before she knelt and began to examine the back of her leg. Alistair frowned in concern, but nodded as Morrigan began the healing spell, turning his attention back to Lord Dace.

"We are Wardens," Aedan was saying, gesturing to himself and Alistair, "travelling with our companions here, and your daughter sent us to search for you so that you might be able to see these papers." He handed over the papers from his pouch that Vartag had given him back in Orzammar.

Lord Dace's brows drew together in confusion as he took the papers from Aedan. "I don't understand. What could -?" He trailed off as he read over the papers, his confusion being steadily replaced by anger. "These are the terms of a deal we made with Harrowmont." He looked back up at Aedan. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I owe you twice now, my life and my house's fortune."

"We are at your service," Aedan replied formally, bowing low.

Lord Dace nodded in response. "May the ancestors smile on you. I must return now. My men need healing and I want to look into this. Do you wish to travel with us?"

Aedan glanced behind him, looking at Ayla, Alistair, and the others that had gathered behind him, as Morrigan straightened up, her healing spell complete. Alistair nodded as Aedan's eyes fell on him, and Aedan turned back to the dwarven lord. "Yes, it might be best. There is safety in numbers, and passage from this area looks limited anyway."

"Then let us reach Orzammar before more beasts find our scent," Lord Dace replied, beginning to march back the way their party had come. He gestured to the half dozen dwarven warriors surrounding him, and they quickly fell in step behind their lord, as did Aedan and their party.

"Thank you, Morrigan," Ayla murmured as they followed the dwarves. The witch had done an excellent job of healing the wound, as always; her healing abilities had grown remarkably since she'd been training with Wynne. Ayla could no longer feel even a twinge in the previously injured leg.

"Bah, 'tis merely my role as the only one present with healing magic." Morrigan waved her hand dismissively. When Ayla merely stared at her, raising her eyebrows, the witch sighed and added softly, "But you are most welcome."

Ayla grinned as the witch then hurried on ahead to check Aedan for any injuries, while Alistair fell back into step beside her. "What happened to your leg?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, it was nothing, really," Ayla responded quickly, hoping to diffuse the worry still lurking in his eyes. "One of those foul lizards just caught me a little off guard and bit my leg. It feels perfectly fine now, though."

He smiled in relief. "That's good. Still, I should not have left your side, it might not have happened if I –"

"Stop," she interrupted him, holding up a hand, though she couldn't help smiling fondly at him. "You cannot be everywhere at once, and it was not a serious injury. I can protect myself, you know."

"I know," he said at last, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently. "But I cannot help worrying about you, all the same."

_I worry about you too_ , she thought, noticing the dark circles under his eyes showing his lack of sleep. "Morrigan had me covered," she said instead, hoping to distract him.

"Well, at least she likes you," Alistair snorted, making her smile. She'd known that would work.

"Not to worry," she assured him, "because she likes me and I love you, she won't let you die either."

He rolled his eyes, though he was smiling widely. "If you say so. Let's get back to Orzammar, then we won't have to worry about the Deep Roads anymore."

"Right," she agreed. The sooner she got him away from the ever-constant presence of the darkspawn, and from worrying about her when he should be worrying about himself, the better off they both would be.

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It took them two days to get back to the dwarven city, reaching it just as night fell. Though they had still run into a few fights on the way back, it had not been nearly as bad as on the way there, especially with the help of the dwarves. They had stopped for shorter periods of rest at night as well, everyone eager to get back as soon as possible.

After dropping Lord Dace off at his home and receiving assurance of his support, Aedan had decided they would go talk to Vartag about meeting Prince Bhelen in the morning. They had made their way back to Tapster's, all of them only too happy to get a solid night's sleep for the first time in several days.

Ayla awoke a few hours after dawn the next morning, having slept far later than she originally planned to. But then, Aedan had not specified when they would go to see Bhelen in the morning, and obviously he had yet to come looking for her or Alistair.

She had awoken to find herself lying on a still-sleeping Alistair's chest, and she was relieved to see how much more peaceful he looked now. The change had been almost instant and obvious in the two Wardens as soon as they were back within Orzammar. The city was obviously far enough away from the darkspawn horde to finally rid them of the burden of its presence, and she had seen the instant relief on both their faces once they were free of it. She hoped it would be a long time before they had to go back down there again.

She lay there, eyes half-closed, content to watch him sleep for several more minutes before the insistent rumble of her stomach got to be too much, and she headed down to the tavern for breakfast. She found Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan down there eating already; a quick check with Morrigan revealed that Aedan was still sleeping as well. They were all nearly finished breakfast by the time both sleepy-looking Wardens finally made an appearance.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Alistair asked her softly as he slid into a seat next to her, while Aedan sat next to Morrigan.

"I thought you could use the sleep," she whispered back as Aedan signalled for more food for the two of them. "I was concerned about how little sleep you were getting down there, you know."

"I was getting enough. I was fine," he insisted.

"And yet, I could not help but worry about you," she retorted, echoing his earlier words back at him.

He grinned in acknowledgement, before leaning in and whispering huskily into her ear, "Wake me up next time."

She shivered at the tingles that husky tone of his never failed to produce in her, and nodded in response, not trusting her voice at the moment. Goddess, they needed some alone time, and soon! He smiled at her, fire in his eyes, before he turned his attention to Aedan, who was discussing the plans for the day.

After the two Wardens had finished their breakfast, they headed to the Diamond Quarter to go speak to Vartag. Ayla went with Alistair and Aedan, and Morrigan and Zevran accompanied them once again. Leliana elected to stay behind again to hear more stories from the dwarves, and Wynne and Sten had apparently already left the tavern to do errands of their own.

It did not take them long to reach the Assembly Hall, where Vartag was hanging out in his alcove again, looking slyly pleased as they approached. "Lady Dace just came through the quarter on a tear," he said before they could even greet him. "She's telling everyone who will listen what a leech and a liar Harrowmont is. Good job. So you were serious about wanting to help us." He studied their group for a moment as Aedan merely nodded in response. "Are you ready to meet Bhelen now?"

"We are ready, please take us to him," Aedan replied curtly.

"I warn you, be on your best behaviour," Vartag said sternly as he began to lead the way from the Assembly Hall. "And keep your weapons sheathed."

Ayla exchanged an amused glance with Zevran as they followed the dwarf through the quarter, knowing that he was thinking the same thing she was. Weapons sheathed or no, either of them could easily attack and likely kill Bhelen in seconds if they really wanted to.

Vartag led them to one of the largest, most impressive buildings in the Diamond Quarter. He led them in the front door, and just judging by the sheer, staggering size of the stone hall as they entered, Ayla realized that they had to be in the dwarven palace. Apparently, though the throne was not yet his, the prince had yet to be forced to leave. They were led through several of the elaborately designed stone rooms, the floors covered in expensive rugs, the walls lined with works of art, before Vartag finally stopped next to a door, gesturing to their group to go inside. They filed in, the door closing behind them as they entered the large, richly appointed stone room, the walls lined with bookshelves and more artwork, before they stopped in front of the blonde-haired dwarf Ayla vaguely recognized as one of the ones they had seen during the argument when they'd first entered Orzammar. He sported a long, braided beard as well as very finely wrought and obviously expensive plate armor.

Though he looked pleasant enough as he smiled at them, Ayla could tell almost right away from the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach that probably everything they said about him was true. Still, she reminded herself, though he may be a harsh and potentially dangerous leader, that did not necessarily constitute a bad thing, and in any event, it was too late to change their minds now.

"I am impressed, Wardens," Bhelen said, nodding at Aedan and Alistair who were directly in front of him. "Not many outsiders so quickly grasp Orzammar's rather . . . convoluted politics. I am Prince Bhelen. Vartag told me of your efforts against the usurper who tried to claim my father's throne."

Aedan exchanged a quick glance with Ayla, and she gave him a minute shake of her head, letting him know that Bhelen was not as trustworthy as he'd hoped. "In all honesty, Prince Bhelen," Aedan began carefully as he turned back to face the Prince, "our main concern is getting troops to face the Blight."

Bhelen's expression was blank for a moment, though Ayla could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to work out just what Aedan meant. He gave a short nod. "Then we have a common goal. We may not like each other, but the Blight is our first priority. We need absolute unity to fight against the fulcrum of true evil."

"Then you will your honor your agreement with the Wardens?" Aedan pressed.

"Absolutely. And sworn on the mail of my ancestors . . . as soon as Orzammar is united under my rule," the Prince clarified, making Ayla sigh. It would appear they wouldn't be leaving Orzammar quite yet. "Unfortunately, while the debate rages, I have no power to send the troops you need. You've seen for yourself; the city is a slaughterhouse. Criminals run lawless. I could never hold the throne if I allowed such chaos."

Aedan exchanged a look with Alistair this time; Ayla could see the weariness in both their gazes as Alistair inclined his head slightly. They were both tired, she knew, tired of not only having to fight the darkspawn but of fighting everyone else's battles as well, just so they could get the aid they needed so badly. Yet what choice did they have? Aedan turned back to the dwarven prince. "In that case, how can we help you take the throne?"

Bhelen smiled, having heard the words he obviously expected. "You have struck a blow against Harrowmont already, and I thank you for that. But there is another faction in play here." He paced for a moment, before turning back and asking, "Have you heard of a woman named Jarvia, and the carta of criminals she runs?"

Aedan nodded slowly. "I have heard some rumors about them causing much chaos in Orzammar."

"They know Orzammar is divided now and has no time for them. It's made them bold. If I show the city I can eliminate such a threat . . ." Bhelen trailed off, eyeing Aedan significantly for a moment before continuing, "Well, let's just say my position would be stronger."

"And if we succeed in defeating them for you? What then?" There was an edge of impatience in Aedan's tone as he addressed the Prince.

"If you can eliminate them, I promise as King, I will send as many troops as you need to fight the darkspawn," Bhelen vowed, gauntleted hand over his heart. Oddly, in spite of her lack of trust in the man in general, Ayla felt that he meant this vow whole-heartedly. "Unfortunately," the Prince continued, "I have little information on Jarvia. Her base of power is in Dust Town, the lowest part of the city, and my men have few sources there. Maybe the casteless will talk more freely with a stranger."

Aedan bowed stiffly. "We will go look for her and the carta right now."

Bhelen smiled. "And I will wait eagerly for your return."

They left the room the Prince was in, and only when they were all the way out of the grand building and well out of earshot of anyone else nearby did Aedan stop and turn to face Ayla. "So, what did you think?" he asked in a low voice.

"He is definitely ruthless and dangerous, and likely not trustworthy overall," Ayla began, "but he meant what he said about granting the Wardens troops. Of that I am certain."

"A bit of ruthlessness is not a bad thing for a King to possess," Zevran commented.

"Indeed," Morrigan agreed, "in order to keep his power, he must remain strong, and not be swayed by weakness."

"It's not like we have a choice anymore anyway," Alistair muttered. "No way would Harrowmont's people trust us now. Backing Bhelen is the only thing we can do now, if we want the dwarves to honor the treaty."

"Right," Aedan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, let's go to Dust Town and see what we can find out about this Jarvia. Hopefully this is the last errand we have to run to get Prince Bhelen his throne."

They followed Aedan as he headed out of the Diamond Quarter. In order to get to Dust Town, they had to head all the way back through the Commons to the opposite end from where the stairs to the Quarter were. On their way past Tapster's, Aedan went quickly in to check for the others, and finding Leliana there talking to some dwarves, got her to come along to help.

In no time, they were heading down the stairs to Dust Town itself. True to its name, the streets were not made of stone as in the rest of Orzammar, but rather dusty ground that seemed to permeate the very air. The buildings, though still made of stone, were all old, crumbling, small and cramped compared to the other areas of Orzammar. The dwarves wandering the streets either looked ill and starving, or the type that would stab you in the back and smile while they did it. Almost all of them sported odd tattoos or brands on their faces or heads, and the place nearly reeked of desperation.

They were attacked shortly after entering by a small group of bandits who thought to steal from them, but the party was able to dispatch them with ease. They began to roam around the small section of town, talking to anybody who was willing to even speak to them. Eventually, Aedan found an injured dwarven woman who was only too happy to tell them everything she knew for a few silver coins. And that was quite a bit, considering she had been a former member of the carta before her injury. All they had to do now was find someone who carried a finger bone token, and then find which building in Dust Town the token opened, which would lead them into the carta's hideout.

They were checking all the doors to the crumbling stone houses in the town to try to spot which one might have an opening for a finger bone token, when one of the doors swung open, revealing two dwarven men in leather armor with hard expressions.

"Well, look what we have here . . ." the first one drawled.

"Jarvia said you were looking for trouble," the second one added. Ayla noticed another half a dozen dwarves in the room behind him. The two walked out of the house, facing their group on the dusty street as the second dwarf gestured to the others behind them, who followed them out. "Congratulations, you found it."

The dwarves suddenly launched into an attack on their party, which they were quick to respond to. Ayla blocked a dwarf's sword with one of her own, lunging forward with the other, catching him on the arm. As the dwarf temporarily dropped his stance in surprise and pain, she shoved his sword away and plunged both her swords home into the dwarf's belly. He dropped to his knees, blood spilling out as she yanked her swords out, before finishing him off with another stroke.

"D-don't kill me!" a panicking voice cried. Ayla looked, noticing that all but one of the dwarves already lay dead, having fallen to arrows, spells, or the swords of her other companions. The only one left was the second, dark-haired dwarf who'd spoken. He was facing Aedan, hands up in the air, pleading for his life. "Sodding ancestors, what do they teach you on the surface? You fight like a bleedin' archdemon!" He glanced around him at the bodies of his companions. "Sweet bloody stone, look at them all!"

Aedan lowered his sword, staring at the dwarf coolly. "I suggest that if you don't wish to join your friends, you tell us where we can find Jarvia."

The dwarf nodded frantically. "The base is below the city. Y-you can get to it through the wall of the third house on this row. Put this token through the slot and it'll open." He shakily produced a finger bone token from his pocket, handing it to Aedan, who sheathed his sword and took the token, tucking it away. "Will . . . will you let me go now?"

"Yes, just this once," Aedan said after a long moment, turning and fixing everyone with a significant glance. Ayla scowled, not agreeing with the decision to let the bandit go, but she reluctantly put away her weapons as Aedan continued, "You will not want to be at Jarvia's when we get there."

"R-really? Oh thank you. You're a . . . a good person," the dwarf stammered in disbelief. "How do they say it? The ancestors have shown their favour. Bless you!" He turned and ran frantically past them.

After a quick check to make sure no one had been injured, Aedan led them to the house the dwarf had indicated. There was a stone door on the front of it, but it appeared to lack any sort of normal devices one would use to open a door. After some inspection, Leliana found a small slot concealed in a fold of the stone. "This is it," she announced, smiling. "It is quite clever, really." She took the token from Aedan, putting it in the slot. There were the sounds of mechanisms whirring, and the door opened.

It led into a tunnel carved out of cave rock which the party proceeded along, following its twists and turns towards a small stone door next to a large torch. They pushed their way through it, and found a fully constructed stone room on the other side, showing no indication of the cave stone that surrounded it. Five dwarves were loitering around the large room, one of whom got up immediately as they entered and came forward to confront them. "What's the password?" he demanded.

"Uh . . . any ideas, Alistair?" Aedan hissed under his breath.

"How am I supposed to know?!" Alistair whispered back.

"How about die, bandit scum?" Ayla suggested loudly, staring at the dwarves scornfully.

"Looks like we have a martyr, boys." The bald, branded dwarf gestured to the others behind them, and once more their party was attacked. Though decently skilled, all five dwarves were only short range fighters, and quickly fell to well-placed arrows or spells from Leliana and Morrigan while the rest of the party kept them busy.

Once all five lay dead, they sheathed their weapons and looked around the room. They took any money and supplies they could find, and found a door in another corner that appeared to lead deeper in. "Well, I guess we go through the whole hideout, room by room until we find this Jarvia," Aedan said at last. "We'd better get going, who knows how big this place is?"

They made their way through the door, discovering that it opened into another series of cave tunnels, off of which were several rooms. Aedan put Leliana and Zevran in the lead, suspecting that such a hideout would likely be full of traps, which turned out to be right. At several points as they went throughout the tunnels and rooms, the two rogues uncovered several tripwires and leghold traps.

Nearly every small room they entered contained dwarves who were only too happy to attack as soon as they opened the doors, obviously guessing by the blood spatter on their armor and the weapons they had out that they were not meant to be in here. Though most of the carta members they encountered as they went through the hideout were the branded, casteless dwarves, they did run into a few qunari and elven mercenaries fighting with them as well.

The first such qunari mercenary they encountered nearly flattened Ayla with his warhammer when he popped out of a side alcove. She just barely rolled out of the way in time with a startled cry as the hammer slammed into the stone floor. Alistair was suddenly there by her side, catching the hammer's next blow on his shield. The qunari had swung with such force, however, that it knocked Alistair backwards off his feet. The qunari, apparently forgetting about her, advanced on Alistair as he struggled to get up. Dropping her swords, she pulled a dagger out instead, leaping off a crate onto the qunari's back and stabbing the dagger into his neck, twisting and yanking backwards viciously. With a gurgle, the qunari fell forward to the ground and she leaped clear.

"Are you all right?" she demanded of Alistair, scrambling to his side.

He nodded, back on his feet, sword and shield at the ready again. "I'm fine, what about you?"

"Also fine," she replied, smiling wryly. "Let's go!" she added, noticing that Aedan was already heading through another door.

In yet another room, an elven mercenary who also happened to be a mage blasted Leliana and Zevran off their feet with a wind spell as they entered, slamming them into the walls. It was only with the combined efforts of Alistair smiting her and Morrigan paralyzing her from behind with a spell, which allowed Alistair to deal a finishing blow, while Ayla and Aedan struggled to deal with the armed fighters in the room, that the damage was not more severe.

All in all, they managed to make it through all the rooms and fights without any serious injuries that were beyond Morrigan's ability to heal. They were also lucky to find many lyrium and health potions to aid them as they looted their way through the rooms once the carta members were defeated. None of the carta members in the hideout itself had asked for any quarter, and their party gave none. Ayla was only too happy to clear out a bandit hideout; she knew it was probably not right to enjoy the slaughter they inflicted, and yet she could not help the sense of satisfaction it gave her.

Finally, after many hours, rooms, and fights, they found themselves outside of the only remaining door in the only remaining tunnel in the carta hideout. It was a fairly large stone door, built into a designed stone wall, with a sloping hallway of flagged stones leading up to it, and large braziers with torches burning on top to either side of the door.

"This has to be it," Aedan said, as they all stopped to catch their breath outside of the room, starting to feel the exhaustion and weariness from the battles setting in. "If Jarvia's anywhere, it has to be in this room. Is everybody ready?"

Everybody nodded, Ayla especially. She could hardly wait to enter the room beyond and confront this Jarvia person. Then they could end the reign of this carta, these bandit criminals, once and for all. And then, perhaps, they would finally be able to fulfill the treaty and leave Orzammar, so she might once again see the sun and the sky, and breathe the fresh air.


	35. Of Carta Queens and Paragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party confronts Jarvia; Alistair is badly wounded during the fight. They return to talk to Prince Bhelen, only to find that he insists he needs one final favor before he can claim the throne; for them to find the paragon Branka who has disappeared in the Deep Roads. Alistair tries to talk Ayla out of coming along on the mission, worried for her safety; the party finally leaves for the Deep Roads, meeting Branka's husband, Oghren, on their way out.

Chapter 35: Of Carta Queens and Paragons

As Aedan swung open the door and they all slipped into the room, Alistair heard him advising Zevran and Leliana in low voices to keep an eye out for more traps in this last room. Judging by the number of traps they'd come across in this hideout so far, it was likely that this room would be covered in them as well. The two rogues nodded, and slipped in ahead of Alistair, Ayla, and Morrigan, flanking Aedan as he went first into the room.

He stopped a little ways into the large stone room, with its flagged stone floors and walls. Alistair noticed why almost immediately; across from the entrance, in the center of the room in the middle of four stone pillars, stood a dark-haired female dwarf in splintmail armor with a brand on her face. She was surrounded by several other dwarves, all fairly heavily armed. Some stood next to her, others on the two stairwells that went up on either side behind the pillars where she stood, probably to other rooms or another way out.

A manic smile spread across her face as she spotted them. "So Bhelen finally realized his throne means nothing if he can't hold it, yet he still doesn't bother to send his own men. Well you picked the wrong side, strangers. It doesn't matter who's king, as long as there's a queen!"

"You seem awfully calm considering we've just laid waste to your entire carta on our way here," Aedan retorted coolly.

Jarvia's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "You'll pay for their deaths a hundred times over," she stated with cold certainty. Gesturing to her fighters as she pulled out dual single-bladed axes, she called out, "Kill them! But leave the mouthy one alive: I have plans for him."

"The mouthy one?" Aedan muttered as he drew his sword. "Is she talking about me?"

"Well, you did taunt her," Alistair pointed out in a low voice, readying his own sword and shield as the bandits raced towards them. "You might want to watch what you say next time."

"I'll keep that in mind," Aedan grunted as he caught Jarvia's axes on his sword. She whirled and swung at him again, and the two were soon engaged in a swift and brutal dance.

Alistair did a quick check of the room as he caught the sword of another dwarf that had been aiming for Aedan's back on his shield. He spotted Zevran crouched on the ground between the pillars, presumably disarming a trap, while Leliana covered him, firing arrows at any bandits that came near. Morrigan was alternating between firing ice blasts and paralyzing spells at the bandits. Ayla, he noticed, had already left one bandit dead behind her and was fighting another with single-minded zeal.

Relieved that she was all right for the moment, he focused entirely on the bandit in front of him, blocking the swings of his sword and watching for an opening. It didn't take too long before he found one; he slammed his shield forward, catching the unfortunate dwarf full in the face, and while he was still reeling from the blow, Alistair ran his sword straight through his chest, pulling it back out even as the dwarf fell to the ground.

Before he'd even had a second to gather himself, another dwarf was upon him, this one wielding dual swords. They seemed to be springing out of the walls, there were so many of them, he thought as he dodged back from the first swing.

This fight took a little bit longer, but he'd seen Ayla and Zevran fight often enough to have noticed the patterns and weaknesses inherent in the dual fighting style. And this bandit was nowhere near their skill level, so he was eventually able to find a gap to strike just as some smoke drifted past him. He wondered vaguely if one of the bandits had employed a smoke bomb like Zevran sometimes liked to use, but decided not to worry about it as he continued fighting.

He had just dealt the finishing blow to the dwarf in front of him when he felt something stab into his side through a gap in his plate armor, a sudden, searing pain spreading from the wound. He grunted and staggered in surprise for one brief second before whirling, catching the offender in the face with a blow from his shield.

It was Jarvia who stumbled back, smirking at him as she pulled out her dual axes again and dodged the swing of his sword before lashing out with her own strike. He caught the blows with sword and shield, just barely. The throbbing pain in his right side was slowing down his sword arm. "Nice reflexes, pretty boy," she taunted, swinging again.

_Pretty boy?_ Alistair wondered, even as he blocked her again, albeit sluggishly. He was starting to feel a little dizzy and off-balance, which didn't make any sense. Yes, the dagger still stuck in his side hurt, but it shouldn't be serious enough to cause him any lasting damage. He heard Ayla scream his name suddenly as he just barely dodged another blow and stumbled, his legs feeling unsteady.

And then, as he swung at Jarvia and missed, noticing the smug smirk the dwarf wore, Ayla was there behind her in a sudden blur, driving her swords home through the dwarf's back and yanking them out viciously. Alistair could see the shock pass across Jarvia's face before she turned unsteadily to face the blazing fury on Ayla's face. "Die like the honorless scum you are," Ayla snarled at her.

The dwarf gurgled out a laugh and mumbled out a reply that Alistair didn't quite catch through the whirling dizziness threatening to overtake his head, before she fell face-first to the ground. Ayla stared down at her body coldly before she muttered, seemingly in response to Jarvia, "I never said I was."

Alistair stumbled down to one knee, catching himself from falling completely with his sword. What was wrong with him? he wondered distantly, unable to properly focus on anything. Ayla was there in front of him in the next second, worry shining out of her face. "Alistair!" she cried.

"I'm fine," he reassured her, wondering why his words sounded so slurred. "It's not a serious wound. At least, it shouldn't be . . ." he trailed off, confused.

Her eyes widened before she turned, shouting for Morrigan and . . . Zevran? What in the Maker's name was going on? The others, all except for Leliana, came hurrying towards them, meaning the battle must be finished now. Alistair grunted in surprise when he felt the dagger being yanked out of his side.

He turned to his right to see Zevran sniffing the dagger blade before nodding and tossing it aside, reaching in his pouch and pulling out a vial. "It is indeed poison," he said. "Fortunately, I've been carrying a few antidotes with me lately for just such an occasion."

"Poison?" Alistair muttered faintly, watching as Ayla took the vial from Zevran and crouched down in front of him. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Just be quiet and drink this," Ayla said hurriedly, her voice unsteady, and seeing the fear and worry in her eyes, he merely nodded, allowing her to help him drink the vial.

"Sorry, Alistair," Aedan crouched down in front of him as well, guilt etched across his face. "She used a smoke bomb and got away from me. I didn't see where she went, and one of the other bandits was on me in the next second."

Alistair finished swallowing the last bit of the foul-tasting antidote before he met Aedan's eyes, noticing the blood dripping down his side from the gap in the underarm of his plate armor. Morrigan was just beginning a healing spell to fix it. "Don't worry about it," he told Aedan. "It's not your fault. I'm actually . . . feeling a little better already."

To his surprise, he actually was; the sluggish feeling in his body and the dizzy fuzziness of his head were already starting to clear. The antidote Zevran had made must have been fast-acting, he thought, impressed despite himself with the elf. The wound in his side was still throbbing a bit, but it was nothing compared to other wounds he'd gotten. He smiled at Ayla, who was studying him closely, the worry still clear on her face. "See, I told you it was nothing serious."

She scowled and shoved lightly at his chest, nearly knocking him off-balance again. "How many times do I have to tell you not to joke about things like this?!"

"I'm sorry, love," he apologized, noticing how upset she still looked, "but really, I'm feeling much better. Thank you, Zevran," he added as an afterthought, looking over at the elf.

"Think nothing of it, my friend," Zevran replied, shrugging. "I would not want my goddess to be upset, after all."

"Thank you, Zev," Ayla added, as Morrigan moved to heal the wound in Alistair's side now, having finished with Aedan. "I really appreciate it."

Zevran waved off her gratitude as Morrigan's healing spell spread through Alistair's wound and Aedan straightened up. "Well, we've managed to defeat Jarvia and the carta, at any rate. I think we can wait until the morning to report to Bhelen, though. We might as well head back to Tapster's and get some rest."

Leliana came up to them then, having been scouting the room, saying, "I found a passageway through one of those doors back there that I think is an exit. There's also a room across from it that must be Jarvia's office. It has some supplies and money we could take."

Aedan nodded. "All right, we'll take everything we can carry from here and check out this passageway. Are you up to moving now, Alistair?"

"Yes, I think I'm fine now," Alistair answered, Morrigan's spell having already finished. He went to push himself to his feet, Ayla hurrying to help support him as he stood. He still felt a little wobbly and dizzy, but otherwise back to normal. "I'm impressed with how fast your antidote worked, Zevran."

The elf grinned. "Ah, the Crows are as equally effective at treating poisons as we are at making them. After all, what good is an assassin who gets himself poisoned?"

"Good point, I suppose," Alistair allowed, as they followed Aedan to the room that was Jarvia's office. He went to help the others as they began looting the chests in the office, but Ayla glared pointedly at him and he sighed, going to lean against the wall outside instead until they were finished.

Once they'd collected everything they could hold, they made their way over to the passageway. Leliana and Zevran took the lead, just in case there were any more traps, while Morrigan and Aedan followed them, and he and Ayla took up the rear. She insisted on supporting him as he walked, though he didn't really think that he needed it.

"I really wish you'd stop doing that to me," Ayla murmured when the others were far enough ahead not to hear.

"I'm sorry," he replied softly, looking down at her. She was staring straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't intend to get stabbed with a poison dagger, you know."

She sighed. "I know, I just . . ." she shook her head, not finishing the sentence. After another moment, she said quietly, "Are we going to make it out of this alive?"

Realistically, he knew he should tell her he didn't know. Because honestly, he had no idea, and really, the odds weren't very good. But he also knew that wasn't what she wanted - and needed - to hear right now. So he pulled her a little closer and said simply, "Yes, we are."

She nodded, and after a moment, looked up at him and smiled. "Good, because I'm not done with you yet."

He grinned in response. "Well, I should certainly hope that you're not."

At that moment, they heard the sound of falling rock just ahead, followed by the sound of someone shouting, "By all the beards of my ancestors! How did you – where did you come from?! Y-you made a hole in my wall!"

They hurried ahead, coming around the bend in the passageway to see that the cave wall before them had a hole in it, beyond which lay . . . the smithery? The dwarven smith Alistair had earlier purchased weapons from was the irate dwarf who was shouting at their party as they emerged from the passageway.

Aedan crossed his arms, staring the dwarf down. "That hole leads to a tunnel in the carta's hideout. You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the carta, would you?"

"No!" the smith cried in what sounded like genuine shock and alarm. "I don't have anything to do with them! They're criminals! When they built this part of the city, they must have built over some tunnels. I swear, I had no idea."

Aedan turned to glance back at Ayla, who nodded. He turned back to the smith, saying, "In that case, we apologize for the intrusion. We did not realize where the tunnel would lead to."

The dwarf scowled, shaking his head. "Aw, just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with this. And if anyone comes asking, I'm gonna tell them you did it!"

Aedan shrugged. "Feel free to do so. We will explain to Prince Bhelen that you were not involved, and the location of the exit was a mere coincidence. Come on, let's go," he added to the others, heading for the door of the smithery, as the smith stared woefully at the hole in his wall behind them.

They followed Aedan as he led them through the commons back towards Tapsters. Though he was feeling a good deal better, Alistair was still more than ready for a night of rest. Then, in the morning, they could report to Bhelen and be on their way. He might even get to spend a little time alone with Ayla before they left, he reflected. That would certainly go a long way to making their stay here better. And perhaps, if he was lucky, what he had said to her about the Blight would prove true, and they would both make it through alive. It was what he wished for more than anything, and as they went to sleep that night, he prayed fervently to the Maker that it would come to pass.

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The next morning, Alistair and Aedan went to visit Bhelen at the palace to report their success in defeating Jarvia and her carta. They left the others behind at the tavern, intending to come back as soon as they had the promise of their troops and leave Orzammar to begin the month-long trip back to Redcliffe.

When the two of them entered Bhelen's study, he beamed at them. "Well, you've simply outdone yourself. They're talking all over the city about how someone finally went through Dust Town and slaughtered the carta like genlocks."

Alistair frowned, not sure if he was comfortable with that description, even though they _had_ killed all of the bandits. Aedan shrugged and replied coolly, "Well, they were criminals. At any rate, we did as you asked. Do you have the troops promised in return?"

"Not yet," was Bhelen's reply, making Alistair groan inwardly. What could the Prince possibly want _now_? "Killing Jarvia brought me greater favour," the dwarf continued, "but to truly displace Harrowmont, we'll need something dramatic enough to end the debate forever. What do you know of the Paragon Branka?"

Alistair vaguely recalled hearing the name. They had heard various rumours at the tavern and around the city itself during their time here, including rumours about Branka being missing. But what did that have to do with anything? Aedan was frowning as he answered, "We had heard some rumours about her being a smith and inventor who disappeared in the Deep Roads."

Bhelen nodded. "She is the only Paragon in four generations and she turned her back on her responsibilities. A Paragon is like an ancestor born in this time. If she returned, her vote would outweigh the entire Assembly. Anyone with her support could take the throne unchallenged."

_Oh no_ , Alistair thought in despair, suddenly realizing what Bhelen was after. He wanted them to go in the Deep Roads again?! Going down there had been even worse than he'd expected, and he had not wanted to return there ever again if he could help it. He knew Aedan felt the same way. And to find someone who had disappeared down there? That would take a good deal longer than their previous foray to track down someone who'd only been down there a few days. Why couldn't fulfilling these treaties just be _easy_ for once?!

"What makes you think she's still alive?" Aedan demanded of the dwarven prince. "Surviving in the Deep Roads is no easy task."

"She had an entire house with her, dedicated to her protection," Bhelen answered. "With the number of ruins still intact, they could last for a long time. And Harrowmont is looking as well. It's too risky to assume she's dead only to have him take credit for finding her." He looked at Aedan significantly, waiting for his reply.

Aedan held up his hand, indicating that Bhelen should wait for a minute, as he pulled Alistair a little further away, whispering, "What do you think?" once they were out of earshot.

"I think I'd rather get stabbed with a poison dagger again than go down into the Deep Roads looking for some dwarven woman who's probably dead," Alistair grumbled in a low voice. Before Aedan could reply, he sighed and went on, "But I don't see what choice we have. We need Bhelen to give us our troops, and he can't do that until he gets the throne."

Aedan nodded slowly, looking as miserable at the prospect as Alistair felt. "And from what we heard on the way over here, it sounds like the nobility is still pretty split, even with what we've done so far. I hate the thought of going down there as much as you do, but you're right. We have no choice if we want the troops that will help us defeat this Blight. We'll just . . . have to deal with it, I guess."

Alistair nodded miserably, and they went back over to Bhelen. "If it will finally get us our troops, we will find her for you," Aedan informed the dwarf. "But keep in mind, this will be the last favour we will perform for you."

Bhelen nodded, as though he had expected this to be a stipulation of their agreement. "If you bring her back, then you will most certainly get all the troops you could possibly hope for," the dwarven prince replied, "and we will all go down in history as a Paragon's saviours. So far, my men have traced Branka to Caridin's Cross; an ancient crossroad lost to the darkspawn four centuries ago."

He took a scroll of parchment, presumably a map, off the nearby desk, and handed it to Aedan, who took it and stored it in his pouch. "Her trail ends there," the dwarf went on. "Perhaps with your Warden's expertise, you can find what my men could not."

"We will leave today," Aedan replied curtly.

"You have my thanks," Bhelen replied, bowing to them. "Seek her in Caridin's Cross. I will try to delay the vote until you return."

Aedan nodded, before turning to leave the Palace. Alistair followed, trying to think as he went of any way he could get Ayla to remain behind this time. She'd hated it down there as much as he had, and the deeper they went down there, the more chance they risked of one of their other companions getting tainted by the darkspawn. So far, they had been lucky, but the more darkspawn they encountered, the greater the risk became. And if something happened to her - no, he couldn't even _think_ of it without feeling sick.

"Do you think we could go alone to search for Branka?" he asked Aedan quietly as they made their way through the Quarter and headed back to Tapsters.

Aedan shook his head, looking grim. "I doubt it. You know as well as I do it would be far too risky. We need the help of the others, even if the risk to them is much higher this time. I don't like it," he sighed, shaking his head, "but we'll never convince either of them to stay behind."

Alistair nodded, unsurprised that Aedan had been thinking along the same lines as him, and knowing that he was likely right. Nevertheless, he was going to try to convince her to stay behind. He couldn't do anything else.

They reached the tavern to find the others all seated around a table while Zevran tried to teach them how to play some sort of Antivan card game. Well, he was trying to teach most of them. Sten was merely watching with an impassive expression on his face, while Wynne was watching with a sort of fascinated horror as Zevran explained the rules, which included something about betting with one's clothes.

They all looked up when Aedan and Alistair approached; Ayla was smiling, looking as though she were greatly enjoying herself, but her expression fell when she met his eyes, clearly realizing that things had not gone according to plan. Aedan explained what had occurred during their meeting with Bhelen, and that this was the last favour they had to perform before fulfilling the treaty and getting the troops they needed. He also explained that it would likely be a much longer expedition into the Deep Roads this time, and that they could really use as much help as they could get, but he would still not order anyone to come.

"I would, however, be eternally grateful to those of you who do choose to come," Aedan went on. "And though I am reluctant to ask this, it would be best if we could have as much healing power as possible down in the Deep Roads. So, Wynne, Morrigan, if you could both come –"

"Of course I will," Wynne interrupted him. "I feel a good deal more refreshed now that I've had a few days' rest, and if you will be down in the Deep Roads for many weeks, you will certainly need the aid."

Morrigan was silent for a minute, and Alistair almost wondered if she was going to refuse, when she said, "I cannot leave the safety of Ferelden solely in the hands of a meddlesome old Circle mage. I will come along as well."

"I will come too," Leliana added, smiling. "I came on this journey to help you, after all. I will not turn you down now."

"Same here," Ayla said quietly, though her expression was carefully blank. "What sort of companion would I be if I turned back now?"

"It sounds like a glorious tale of adventure!" Zevran exclaimed, throwing his hands up, and Alistair suspected he was trying to cheer Ayla up, a suspicion confirmed when he threw a wink her way before going on, "What sort of assassin would I be if I was afraid to die?"

"I do not fear death," Sten stated, "and if we are to meet many darkspawn on this venture, as you say we will, then that is the reason I came. I will not miss this opportunity either. Perhaps we will even encounter the archdemon at last."

"By Andraste, I hope not," Aedan muttered under his breath, before saying out loud, "Thank you, all of you. I appreciate this more than you could ever know. Let's all gather our supplies and meet back down here in a few minutes. We will be leaving right away."

The others nodded as they all headed for their rooms, and once again, Alistair followed Ayla back up to their room to get his pack ready. He didn't say anything to her on the way up, trying to think of how he could convince her to stay behind. When they reached the room and had closed the door behind them, he turned to her.

"Don't even start with me, Alistair," she snapped, holding up her hand to stop him from talking. "If you so much as _imply_ you want me to stay behind, I _will_ hit you."

He sighed, shaking his head. Maker, he knew she was stubborn, but really? "I – just wanted to say you don't have to feel obligated to come. I know that you hate it in the Deep Roads, and it makes you uncomfortable, and this will be a far longer trip –"

She slammed her hands into his armored chest, hard enough that he actually fell back a couple of steps. " _You_ hate it down there, and it's far more uncomfortable for you than it is for me! So just stop right there! This is not about feeling _obligated_ or anything _stupid_ like that –" she stopped, taking a few deep breaths in an obvious attempt to calm herself down. "The _only_ way you'll convince me to stay behind is if you stay behind with me."

For a brief second, he actually considered it, but he knew he couldn't do that to Aedan. "You know I can't," he said quietly.

"Then you have your answer," she replied coldly, shoving her things into her pack, not looking at him. "Don't bring it up again."

"I'm sorry," he said at last, as he finished preparing his own pack and slung it over his shoulders. "I knew it would upset you when I brought it up. It's just – the risk of you becoming tainted is much higher with the length of time we'll be down in the Deep Roads. And – the only cure for the taint, _if_ it even works, is the Joining, and I don't know how the Joining works. So if you get tainted, that's it, and if that happened . . . . . I would never be able to forgive myself for bringing you down there. For being the _reason_ you were down there. So - because I love you – I had to try."

She had finished up her own pack while he had been talking, slinging it over her shoulders as well, and had turned to watch him partway through his explanation. When he finished, she sighed. "By the Fox, Alistair, how am I supposed to stay mad at you?"

He smiled in spite of himself, because just hearing her say that made him feel oddly better about this whole thing. "Well, obviously, you're not. How can you be expected to resist my charms?"

She shook her head and smiled. "How indeed?" She walked over to him and tapped his chest. "Just remember this: I will _always_ go where you go, no matter the danger. So if you want me to be safe, then _you_ have to be somewhere safe. Otherwise we'll just have to be in danger together. That is how it is going to work, understand?"

Yes, he decided, he loved her more every day he knew her. He had not thought it possible, but it was. He wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her towards him, claiming her mouth in a scorching kiss as he tangled his other hand in her hair. He kissed her with a desperate hunger, truly afraid this might be the last time he ever got to do this, and she answered in kind, clinging to him, tugging on his hair with her arms tight around his neck.

When she moaned low in her throat with need, his own need spiked that much higher, and somehow he ended up pressing her into the door, nibbling on her neck, needing to taste her. He was losing himself in that taste, sweeter than the best things he'd ever had, when someone pounded on the door, making both of them jump and pull apart.

"You'd better not be doing what I think you're doing," Aedan called through the door, "because we're leaving right now and not a minute later."

Ayla stepped away from the door, nodding to him as she tried to steady her breathing, and he tried to ignore the heat still lurking in her eyes as he opened the door to Aedan. "Of course we're leaving right now," he replied, silently cursing how breathless he sounded.

Aedan raised his eyebrows, studying them both thoroughly. "Uh-huh. Well, let's get going then." He turned and headed down to the tavern, leaving them both to follow behind him.

They did, and Ayla whispered as they went along, "You know we didn't fool him in the slightest."

Alistair grinned, feeling inexplicably light-hearted at the moment. "I know. Maker, do I need to get you alone at a better time."

"Yes, you do," she agreed fervently. "Perhaps we will be able to carve out a few minutes in the Deep Roads one night if we are lucky."

"Let's hope so," he replied. He had been far too long without her by now, and he didn't know how much longer he could go without losing his sanity. He would have to see if he could find a way to keep them alone and safe for a few minutes at least.

They met up with the others down in the tavern, and Aedan led them out and towards the entrance to the Deep Roads that they had used last time. They stopped briefly at one of the merchant's stalls on the way out, buying more food and potions to hopefully last the entire time they would be down there.

They had almost reached the guards who were stationed at the entrance to the Deep Roads when a dwarf stumbled into their path, halting Aedan's progress. He was red-haired, with an elaborately braided bread, and a truly impressive set of silver plate armor accented with blue. He had an equally impressive double-bladed battleaxe strapped to his back.

"Stranger!" he slurred, weaving and attempting to focus on Aedan. "Have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts? I've been privy to the rumour that he – or was it she – you understand this was many mugs ago – was searching for Branka on Prince Bhelen's own command."

"Oh? What does this Grey Warden look like?" Aedan asked, with an air of great seriousness. Alistair was barely able to suppress a snort of laughter, and neither Ayla nor Zevran bothered to try, both of them chuckling quietly. Fortunately, the dwarf didn't seem to notice.

The dwarf appeared to consider for a moment before he began, "Stout and muscular, fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose, surrounded by a great glowing nimbus."

"Well, he's not wrong," Ayla whispered in Alistair's ear, and this time, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Are you referring to me or Aedan?" he asked her softly.

She grinned at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"If she's a woman," the dwarf was continuing in his slurred fashion, "she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently. I've been looking for hours, but I haven't seen anyone who looks like that. Very frustrating," he concluded with a shake of his head, while the majority of the party was shaking with suppressed laughter by this point.

Aedan pretended to consider for a moment before shaking his head and replying with an admirably straight face, "Sorry, I don't think I've seen anyone that looks like that."

The dwarf paused for a moment before his eyes narrowed suddenly and he focused more sharply on Aedan – and the fact that he had to look up to meet Aedan's eyes. "Hey, hold off here. Wardens and their staff are the only non-dwarves who've been allowed in the city lately. Does that mean that you –" gesturing to Aedan – "or one of them – " looking suspiciously at the rest of them – "are a Warden?"

"Well, I suppose you caught me," Aedan replied, grinning. "Yes, I am a Warden, and so is he." He nodded to Alistair, standing just behind him.

The dwarf studied Aedan for a moment, then Alistair, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Huh. I have to say, from all the tales, I was expecting something a little more impressive." He shrugged. "Eh, but I guess standards aren't what they used to be. Say, could I ask you a favour?"

Aedan sighed heavily. "Why not? Everyone else does."

"Name's Oghren, and if you've ever heard of me before, it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong," the dwarf introduced himself, laughing slightly before continuing, "And that's mostly true, but the part they never say is how I'm the only one still trying to save our only Paragon. And if you're looking for Branka, I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her."

Well, Alistair thought, if this dwarf had some information that could narrow down their search, that was quite possibly the best news he'd heard all day. Aedan, seemingly thinking along similar lines, replied, "If you do indeed have some information, it would be helpful, yes. Just what do you want in return for this information?"

"I know what Branka wanted and how she was looking. You, presumably, know everything Bhelen's scouts have discovered about where she disappeared. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck," Oghren stated, suddenly sounding a good deal more sober than he had initially.

Aedan turned to look at Alistair, who nodded slightly. Any help was welcome, as far as he was concerned. Ayla nodded as well when Aedan looked to her. Turning back to Oghren, Aedan said, "All right, it sounds like we have a deal."

Oghren nodded before continuing, "You should know that Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void, the secret to building golems, which was lost centuries ago. The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross. No one's seen that thaig for five hundred years."

Aedan sighed again. "Marvellous. Why is it, anyway, that you're so determined to go find her?"

"We're married," the dwarf retorted. "Of course I'm sodding well determined to find her."

Alistair frowned, not understanding how Oghren could possibly have let his wife go alone into the Deep Roads. He would never have let Ayla go anywhere so dangerous without him, and they weren't even married yet. Unable to help his curiosity, he blurted out, "If you're married, why aren't you out there with Branka?"

Oghren scowled at him. "Why do you sodding think? She left me! Ran off and took our entire sodding house on her mad quest for the Anvil! It was a stupid move." He sighed and went on in a tone of regret, "If I'd been with her, she'd have made it back years ago. But I forgive her."

"Well, we should probably get going," Aedan said after a moment of awkward silence. "The sooner we begin, the sooner we can find Branka – hopefully."

Oghren nodded, turning toward the entrance to the Deep Roads. "Great. Once we're there, I should be able to pick up Branka's trail, no trouble. Lead on."

Aedan made his way towards the entrance to the Deep Roads, and they all followed, their new dwarven ally included. Alistair was a good deal more hopeful now that their mission to find Branka might actually succeed with Oghren's help. He was determined to make his earlier statement to Ayla come true – they would make it through this Blight alive, if he had anything to say about it.


	36. Unnatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair has a discussion with their new party member Oghren, leading the two to make a deal. The party arrives at Ortan Thaig, finding a dwarf named Ruck squatting in the remains of Branka's old campsite. They eventually find Branka's journal and discover that they must go further into the Deep Roads to the Dead Trenches in order to track her down.

Chapter 36: Unnatural

"So, that Aedan fellow there – he's the boss, right? And you're his second?" the dwarf asked Alistair as they made their way through the Deep Roads, heading for Caridin's Cross.

They had left Orzammar behind no more than a few hours ago, and somehow Alistair had ended up watching the rear with Oghren. Ayla and Morrigan were scouting ahead, while Aedan led the rest of the party with Striker by his side, and the others were spread out between him and Alistair. This was the dwarf's first attempt at conversation, however. Up till now he'd been keeping an eye on their surroundings or drinking periodically from a flask he stashed in his armor.

"I suppose you could say that, yes," Alistair answered, wondering what the dwarf was after. Possibly just trying to figure out how their ragtag group worked; he'd only been given a very brief introduction before they had gotten underway.

"And all the rest of these people – they ain't Wardens, right?" Oghren gestured at all the others walking ahead, before producing his flask from seemingly nowhere again and taking a swig.

Alistair shook his head. "No, they're not. They're travelling with us and lending us their aid until we defeat the Blight. Some of them more willingly than others," he added wryly, watching Zevran ahead of them as he said something to Leliana that caused her to swat him.

"Huh, you don't say." The dwarf was silent for another few moments, punctuated by a few more drinks from his flask, before he said, "Which one of those fine-looking women is the boss's?"

"Uh . . . what?" Alistair stared at Oghren, wondering if he'd actually heard right. Why would the dwarf care about that?

"Oh, come on," the dwarf scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe he's in charge of all those long-limbed goddesses and isn't getting his oats rolled by one of them! Is it the witch? The redhead with the bow? Or is it the other redhead with the magnificent bosom –"

"Hey!" Alistair exclaimed, indignant. "No, it's not her, and don't talk about Ayla that way! Or look at her that way, for that matter!"

"Ohhh." Oghren grinned. "Is she yours then?" He didn't wait for Alistair to do more than nod, unsure of what else to do, before he went on, "I can't help it if her bosom is right at my eye level, you know. But good on you, son. Didn't know you had it in you." The dwarf whacked him in the side with a gauntleted fist, in what Alistair assumed was supposed to be a congratulatory manner.

"Uh . . . thanks, I guess?" Alistair was no longer sure whether to be offended or amused, though he was leaning more towards amused. Were all dwarves this perverted?

The dwarf chuckled. "You're welcome. She looks like a handful, that one. I'm impressed. But you still didn't answer my question about the boss, you know."

Alistair shook his head. What a remarkably one-track mind this dwarf had. "If you must know, Aedan's 'woman' is Morrigan, the witch."

"Ah," Oghren nodded. "Pity. The things I could do to her. Well, that means the archer is free, right? Unless she's having a go at it with the elf."

Alistair barely managed to stifle a snort. "No, not that I know of. You're welcome to give it a try," he offered, deciding that it would be funny to see. Given how fast and effectively Leliana had shut down Zevran's initial offers, he could only imagine what she'd say to the dwarf.

Oghren snickered. "Maybe I will. So why did you Wardens bring your women down here? You must know how dangerous it is."

Alistair sighed, the amusement he'd felt at the dwarf's antics quickly fading at the reminder of one of his foremost concerns. "It wasn't done willingly, I assure you. Both of them do exactly as they please."

The dwarf snorted. "I know what that's like! Well, Warden, how about a deal for you? You help me find Branka, I'll help you keep your woman safe."

Alistair nodded, actually feeling slightly better at Oghren's offer. He'd yet to see him fight, but most dwarven warriors spent as much or more time down in the Deep Roads as Wardens did, meaning if he'd survived this long, Oghren had to be skilled. "That sounds like a good deal to me."

They shook hands on it before continuing on their way, once more in silence. Though the conversation had been rather odd, Alistair decided that Oghren wasn't half bad. Now he just needed to hold up his end of the deal by finding Branka before they all got themselves killed down here.

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It took six days of hard travelling through the Deep Roads, using the map that Bhelen had provided and the assistance that Oghren gave, before they finally arrived at Caridin's Cross. It had been a blur of pain for Alistair, as he suspected it had been for Aedan, though neither complained.

It was actually less painful than it had been last time – whether more darkspawn had gone up to the surface in the meantime or he was developing a tolerance for it, Alistair didn't know. But he took pains to try and hide any sign of discomfort from Ayla, anyway, claiming that he hardly noticed it this time around. He didn't know if it had worked; she had nodded and smiled as though she believed him, but not said anything further.

Oghren was settling in well with the group for the most part; Aedan, Ayla, and Zevran all seemed to find him highly amusing, and Alistair had to admit he did too, as long as the dwarf wasn't trying to embarrass him. Sten and Wynne seemed to possess a sort of indifferent contempt for the dwarf, while Morrigan and Leliana held a more obvious and possibly fatal contempt for him. Striker had seemed to like the dwarf up until a day ago, when he'd attempted to ride the warhound into battle. The dog had since steered clear of him and stuck to Aedan's side. The overall opinion of the dwarf, however, was that in spite of his more annoying tendencies, he was quite useful down in the Deep Roads. He had been a great help both in finding their way and in the battles they had so far encountered.

Though they had run across several bands of darkspawn and deepstalkers over the last few days, it didn't seem to be nearly as many as last time. The fights were also easier with the larger party they possessed. Nevertheless, Alistair was sincerely hoping that they would find some sign of Branka here in Caridin's Cross so they could go back as soon as possible.

"Caridin's Cross!" Oghren exclaimed as they stood at the entrance. Unlike the crude tunnels they had been in so far, this was a clearly well-constructed road, paved with flagstones, the ceiling above supported by large pillars. Proper torches stood at intervals along the way, as well as old road markers indicating which way to go. "I can't believe Bhelen actually tracked this down! This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here, including Ortan Thaig."

Aedan nodded, studying the road ahead of them. "So, do you have any idea of where to go from here?"

"Aye," the dwarf replied, squinting at some crumpled, ale-soaked maps he'd produced from his pack, before looking back up at the road. "Branka dug up some maps of the ancient empire. It's a little tough to tell with so much of it collapsed now, but near as I can figure we're on the right path to Ortan Thaig."

"Great. Let's go." Without waiting for an answer, Aedan started off ahead, leaving the rest of them behind.

"I've been waiting for someone to say that for two sodding years," Oghren grunted with satisfaction, before hefting his axe and following after Aedan.

Alistair joined the others as they followed the dwarf. They hadn't gotten very far down the road before they discovered that the way ahead was blocked off by a cave-in, meaning they had to back-track to a hole in the wall that was the entrance to a tunnel weaving its way through the surrounding rock.

Alistair felt the presence of at least a couple dozen darkspawn down the tunnel, though it was more difficult to pick up on exact numbers down here, and he quietly called a warning ahead to Aedan, who nodded grimly, obviously feeling it too. They had no choice but to press ahead, however.

When they ran across the darkspawn a few minutes later, they were nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of them attacking at once, especially as there were shrieks and ogres among the lot. With the combined power of the entire group, though, they were eventually successful.

The rest of the trek through Caridin's Cross continued in much the same fashion; they would make their way along a tunnel, battling darkspawn, until it led them back to the actual road. After some travel along the road, they would eventually hit another ruined section, and have to find some other way to continue forward. Most of the Cross was filled with darkspawn, as well as a few deepstalkers. It was hours before they finally found their way through the entire place.

Oghren finally stopped them, just in front of an archway back on the main road, surrounded by more signposts. He took a long drink from his flask while everybody stopped for a breather before declaring, "This looks like the right way out. Ortan Thaig. It won't be long now."

"How much further do you think the Thaig is?" Alistair asked, trying to stand as straight as possible and not sound as exhausted as he felt, especially since Ayla was standing right next to him.

The dwarf shrugged. "Don't know. Couple more days, I suspect."

"And Branka will be there?" Aedan demanded, coming up on Alistair's other side.

"If that's where the Anvil is? Aye, she'll be there," Oghren answered.

Aedan nodded. "All right. Let's keep going, then."

Onward they went, and true to Oghren's word, it took another two days through increasingly dangerous tunnels before they finally arrived at the entrance to Ortan Thaig. It looked much like the Cross had, with a well-constructed road contained by sculpted walls and pillars.

"By the tits of my ancestors, Ortan Thaig," Oghren breathed, studying the walls around them. "I never thought I'd see this place in the flesh. I can see Branka all over this place. She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel – check their composition." He tapped a chipped section of the wall for emphasis. "If she was still here, though, she'd have sentries out by now."

Aedan nodded, while Alistair sighed. Of course they'd arrive at what was supposed to be their final destination only to discover that no one was there. "What can you tell us about these ruins?" Aedan asked.

"This was Caridin's home thaig," the dwarf replied. "He was an Ortan before he got raised to Paragon. Even stayed here when he could have had his own house. I guess he didn't want to move his people to Bownammar."

"So where would Branka have gone if not here?" Alistair demanded, trying to restrain the impatience he felt. The longer they were down here, the greater the chances of something bad happening.

Oghren shook his head. "I don't know. This was always her goal. She figured if the Anvil wasn't here, there would at least be some clue to point her to where it is."

Aedan sighed. "Well, if she found a clue here, let's hope we can find it too. Let's get going."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Oghren declared, leading the way again with Aedan following closely behind.

"How are you feeling?" Ayla asked Alistair softly as they took up the rear of the party's procession.

"I'm fine." He smiled down at her, trying to sound as sincere as possible. He clearly didn't succeed, though, because she raised her eyebrows, regarding him suspiciously. "As fine as I can be," he amended, "being down here and knowing that we have even more of the Deep Roads to search."

She nodded, accepting that answer. "Well, surprisingly enough, Oghren's been a great help so far. I'm sure he'll find something to point us in the right direction."

"You're right," he agreed. Without Oghren's help, they wouldn't have even gotten this far. He had to hope that the dwarf would succeed in leading them the rest of the way. "Let's find that clue so we can get out of here and I can get you alone again."

She grinned, her eyes flashing with heat as they met his. "If it takes too long, we really will have to find some way to be alone down here."

He laughed, even as he struggled to ignore the temptation to find a way right now. "If that happens, I'll see if I can think of something. Come on, let's go."

Oghren led them past the darkspawn corpses that were laid out at the entrance to a tunnel that led off the main road, much like they'd seen at the Cross. They followed the rock tunnel along through its various caverns, fighting both the darkspawn and giant spiders they came across, until they finally came out into an immense cavern.

The roof overhead was so high up that it couldn't be made out, and they knew by the bits of walls and the still intact statues or half-intact stone houses that they must have come across part of the actual thaig itself. Just as they walked past several statues, Ayla hissed, "Hey, is that a dwarf up ahead?"

Alistair looked just in time to see what was indeed a dwarf hunched over a corpse on a stone dais several yards ahead, before the dwarf spotted them and cried out, fleeing towards a tunnel off to the right.

Aedan turned to Oghren. "Do you think that could be one of the dwarves from Branka's house?"

Oghren shrugged. "Hard to say. Didn't get a good look at him. Patrols might've stumbled across this place too, or the Legion of the Dead. Couldn't hurt to go look, though."

They headed over to the tunnel where the dwarf had run, to find him lurking just at the entrance. He was dark-haired, dressed in battered, dirty leather armor, and was moving oddly, tilting his head and shuffling, half hunched over. As soon as he spotted them, he cried out, "There's nothing for you here! It's mine! I've claimed it!"

Aedan halted several feet away from him, holding up his hand to stop everyone behind. "Claimed it? Are you part of the clan who lived here?"

"The clan . . . ?" The dwarf tilted his head uncertainly, his arms waving and shaking randomly. "No. But it's still mine! Ruck's been here for years now, and no shiny surfacers will take him away!"

"Bah! He's a bloody scavenger, good as sodding gone," Oghren snorted, echoing Alistair's thoughts. Just by the pattern of the dwarf's speech and his movements, it was obvious he'd long ago lost his mind down here.

"Begone, you!" Ruck cried. "You'll bring the dark ones back, you will! They'll crunch your bones!"

"Word has it you can only survive down here by eating the darkspawn dead," Oghren muttered, shaking his head.

"Darkspawn blood is poison. Men have died just from drinking it," Alistair answered sombrely, remembering all the Joinings he'd attended and how few of the people there survived. He couldn't imagine being forced to eat darkspawn; he was surprised this Ruck was still alive. In different circumstances, he might have become a Warden.

"It burns when it goes down. It burns!" Ruck exclaimed, as though in answer to what Alistair had said. "It's my claim, not yours! Crunch your bones!" With that, the dwarf turned and fled the rest of the way down the tunnel.

Before they could follow, Ayla called out a warning at the same time as Striker barked; a swarm of spiders was approaching them from behind. The party turned to face the attack, and were able to dispatch the half-dozen spiders in a few minutes without any major injuries.

After they were done, Aedan led the way down the tunnel after Ruck. When they reached the end, the tunnel opened into a small, enclosed cavern that had obviously been a camp for quite some time. There were bits of furniture, urns, and signs of wear everywhere, as well as a fire-pit on a raised bit of stone off to the side, where Ruck stood.

"Go away!" the dwarf shouted when he spotted them. "This is mine! Only I gets to plunder its riches!"

Aedan approached the dwarf slowly, halting several feet away, asking carefully, "Is this Branka's campsite?"

"It's mine! I'm the one who found it. I drove out the crawlers. Now it's mine!" Ruck cried, his eyes darting everywhere as he took in all the people in their party.

Aedan looked at Alistair, who shrugged helplessly. He had no idea how to get more information out of this dwarf driven mad by consuming darkspawn flesh. Aedan sighed and turned back to Ruck. "Was this campsite here when you found it?"

"Everything was here. Everything the crawlers did not already take! Rocks and tents and worms! It's all mine!" Ruck's voice was getting increasingly higher as he became obviously more frantic, backing slightly away from their party.

Leliana suddenly came up to Aedan's side then, whispering to him, "Let me try." Aedan nodded in answer, backing up a little bit, gesturing to the others to do the same. They all retreated several paces, watching as Leliana approached the dwarf, smiling.

"I am not here to steal anything, I promise you," she assured Ruck, speaking softly and kindly to the dwarf.

Ruck almost instantly calmed as he looked at her. "Pretty lady . . pretty eyes, pretty hair . . ." he breathed. "Smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock . . ." He hesitated, stepping just the smallest bit closer to Leliana. "So the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms and pretty rocks?"

Leliana shook her head gently, still smiling. "No, I promise. I just want to talk to you, ask you a few questions, okay?"

Ruck nodded vigorously. "I will answer your questions, pretty lady. Anything you wish."

"Did you find anything . . . unusual at this camp?" Leliana asked, glancing back at Aedan, who nodded encouragingly.

"Bits of things, but only bits. The crawlers took almost everything," Ruck replied. "They takes things of steel and things of paper. They takes the shinies and the words."

"Paper and words?" Oghren muttered from next to Aedan. "That sounds like someone was taking notes. Do you think Branka camped here?"

Aedan nodded. "It seems likely. This looks like a more elaborate campsite than he could set up, and the notes sound like something that's beyond him at this point."

"Do you know where the, uh, crawlers took these things, Ruck?" Leliana pressed gently.

Ruck nodded, waving his arms back towards the tunnel where they'd come from. "They bring to the great nest, the nest they makes for the eggs. They puts the shinies inside, they do."

"We should go find this nest," Alistair muttered, as Leliana proceeded to thank Ruck for the information he'd given them. "See if we can find those notes, and if they say where Branka might have gone."

"That sounds like a good idea," Aedan agreed as Leliana rejoined them and they began to make their way down the tunnel. "Let's start looking for it."

"Should we really leave him here like this, suffering all alone?" Ayla asked quietly, glancing behind them. Alistair looked down at her, concerned. She looked more upset and disturbed than he could ever recall seeing her.

"Ayla . . ." He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, unsure of what to say to her or what to do in this situation. Ruck would only get worse the longer he stayed down here, but what could they really do about it?

"She speaks the truth," Sten rumbled. "The dwarf is obviously insane. He should be put out of his misery."

"We cannot just kill him," Wynne snapped, glaring at the qunari.

"Can we not?" Zevran replied. "What sort of life do you think he has down here?"

"Surprisingly, I once again find myself agreeing with the elf," Morrigan remarked.

"He is not doing anyone any harm, surely," Leliana protested.

Aedan sighed. "No one but himself. Zevran has a point. His life down here is nothing but scavenging for darkspawn corpses, living all alone in the remains of a camp while he slowly goes more insane." He glanced over at Alistair. "Is there any way . . ."

Alistair shook his head, already knowing where he was going. "To reverse the damage from eating the darkspawn, do you mean? No. There's no cure for it at this point. He can't get better, and we can't take him back to Orzammar like that."

"Then the answer is obvious," Sten declared. "I will do it, if you Wardens do not have the spine for it."

"It's not about having the spine for it," Aedan snapped. "It's about whether it's the right thing to do . . ." He shook his head. "Never mind. I will go do it."

"But . . ." Leliana began.

"There's no other choice," Aedan interrupted her. "Unless you want him to suffer alone here after we leave."

Leliana sighed, shaking her head. "No, I do not . . ."

"Well, then, the rest of you go on ahead to find the nest. I'll join you shortly." Aedan turned and headed back towards the campsite.

"Come on," Oghren gestured to the others, heading away from the dais where they'd encountered Ruck, towards an arched stone bridge in the distance. "This is the only way forward – the spiders must be this way. Those papers _have_ to belong to Branka – nothing that fragile would be left over from the Thaig."

"Let's go, then," Alistair agreed, and they all followed as Oghren headed towards the bridge. He glanced down at Ayla as she walked next to him, noticing that she still looked disturbed and unusually pale. "Are you all right?" he asked her softly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She leaned into him as they walked, shaking her head. "It's just – the taint of the darkspawn and the way it affects things is so . . . _unnatural_ . . . it makes me actually feel ill, sometimes. I'll be fine, though. I just . . . need a few minutes."

"I'm sorry, love." He hated to see her like this and not be able to do anything to make it better. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be seeing things like this . . ."

"Stop," she told him quietly, firmly. "There is no need for you to feel guilty. This is my destiny too, and I chose to be here. Don't blame yourself for it."

He nodded slowly. He wasn't sure that he could put aside his guilt so easily, but he didn't want to worry her further at the moment. "All right, if you say so." He heard the sound of a pained cry in the distance behind them just then, and he knew Ayla did too; he felt her stiffen against his side, but they both pretended they hadn't heard as they made their way across the bridge, which led over an underground river. The sound of the rushing water was welcome after being down here for so long, and he noticed Ayla sigh faintly, relaxing somewhat as they passed over the river.

Aedan rejoined them shortly after they reached the other side, grim-faced and not saying a word. Morrigan slipped to his side and took his hand, and the two whispered quietly together as they all followed Oghren through a small tunnel on the other side of the bridge. They hadn't gone down the tunnel very long before they began to catch glimpses of spiders ahead of them.

Ayla pulled away from Alistair then, reaching for her swords, and everybody followed suit, quietly arming themselves as they continued down the tunnel after the spiders. Eventually, the tunnel opened up to another cavern, and they had to take another stone bridge across a dried-up river to reach the solid ground on the other side.

They had only made it a few steps beyond the latest bridge when they were suddenly attacked by the spiders. Alistair lashed out with his shield and knocked a leaping spider to the ground, spearing it through the chest with his sword before it could get back up. The others similarly moved to defend themselves from the giant spiders leaping through the air from all sides; it was death to allow a spider to knock you down and get its pincers around you.

He kept an eye out for Ayla as the spiders continued to descend on them, seemingly popping out of nowhere. There were far more than they'd ever previously faced, and even with the full strength of their party, it was a struggle not to be overwhelmed. He felled another spider before it reached Aedan to his right, and spotted the largest spider yet leaping for Ayla's back as she fought.

"Ayla!" he shouted, racing forward to help her. He wouldn't be able to make it in time, he knew, but fortunately Oghren was suddenly there behind her, blocking the spider's pincers with his battleaxe.

The momentum of the spider's leap brought Oghren to the ground, though he was able to keep his axe between him and the pincers. Alistair got there seconds later, just as Ayla was turning around after finishing off the spider she had been fighting, and as Alistair struck at the spider's side, distracting it, Ayla pulled the dwarf out and away from the spider.

This spider was far larger and stronger than the others had been, though, so Alistair's first blow did little damage. He continued to strike at it, dodging its blows and blocking with his shield, continually losing ground. Ayla and Oghren joined him in harrying the spider, and while the three of them were keeping the monstrous thing distracted, Sten appeared behind it and finally cleaved it in two with a mighty blow of his greatsword. With a screech, the spider finally collapsed to the ground.

"Thanks, Sten," Alistair managed, lowering his shield and nodding at the qunari.

Sten grunted. "It was merely part of my duty in accompanying you, Warden."

"Right," Alistair sighed, turning to look around. The spiders seemed to all be dead now, and no new ones had appeared. He wiped off his sword and sheathed it, approaching Ayla. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, smiling faintly. He knew she still hated the giant spiders, and the close call probably hadn't helped, but she actually looked better than she had earlier. "Yes, thanks to Oghren, I'm fine."

"Huh, well, you know . . . just helping out and all," the dwarf mumbled. If Alistair didn't know better, he'd swear Oghren was actually turning red.

"Yes, thank you, Oghren," he added. "I owe you one."

Oghren shook his head, fumbling in his armor for his flask. "No, you don't, boy. It was part of our deal, remember? Just help me find Branka, and we're square."

Alistair nodded slowly. Yes, the dwarf was definitely embarrassed. "I promise you, we will find her."

"Hey, over here!" Leliana called from several yards away. "I believe these may be the papers we were searching for!"

They all headed over to where the bard was standing, in a corner of the cavern beyond where they'd fought the large spider, close to another tunnel leading in the opposite direction from where they'd arrived. Leliana stood in front of a large leather-bound journal she'd opened up on a flat rock, and she was surrounded by piles of weapons, bits of furniture, coins, gems, and various other things the spiders had obviously been collecting.

Aedan went and joined her, glancing over the journal, flipping through as the rest of them stood back and watched, until he stopped, leaving the journal open at a page towards the end and beginning to read aloud.

_"We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil . . If we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all. If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him . . . No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell."_

He turned to look back at the others, his expression unreadable. "The journal ends there, but there's a map that shows where the Trenches are."

"Branka was thinking about me. I knew she still cared!" Oghren exclaimed, grinning, his embarrassment forgotten. "Old softie. Looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop then. They say that darkspawn nest there, whole herds of 'em. But if that's where Branka went, then that's where I'm going."

_Maker's breath_ , Alistair thought. This was absolutely the last thing he'd wanted to hear. "Well, Alistair?" Aedan asked quietly, staring steadily at him.

Alistair sighed. "From what little Duncan told me about the Dead Trenches, my understanding is that they're the heart of the Deep Roads. Probably most of the horde is there." He didn't say what he was really thinking, which was that it would be the most difficult place for the two of them in all of the Deep Roads, but he knew by the look in Aedan's eyes that he understood what he wasn't saying.

"Well, it doesn't sound like we have any choice," Aedan said after a long moment. "If that's where Branka went, that's where we have to go. By the looks of this map, though, it may take another week to reach the Trenches, and who knows how long it will take to find anything there. Anyone who wishes to, can turn around and go back. I won't ask anyone to keep going if they don't want to."

Alistair wanted nothing more than to tell Ayla to go back, to get somewhere safe, rather than coming with them to the Trenches to face the horde. But he knew if he asked, she'd only get angry with him again, so he didn't even meet her eyes as the rest of the party shook their heads and pledged to keep going, including Ayla.

"All right, then," Aedan said, nodding. "We'll all keep going. Thank you, everyone. I think we should stop here to rest, though, before going on. It's been a very long day getting through this place."

Everyone agreed, and they cleared themselves a place as far away from the spiders as they could get to set up camp. Alistair offered to take first watch, as he was too worked up to sleep anyway, and they had once again been splitting the watch between himself, Aedan, and Ayla. He found a rock a little ways out from where the others were, where he could keep an eye on things around them as they all slept.

Not long after everyone had bedded down for the night, Ayla approached him. He opened his arms to her and she settled willingly on his lap. "Thank you," she said after a moment, looking up at him, "for not asking me to go back."

He sighed. "Well, it's not that I didn't want to, but I remembered what you said about always going with me. And . . . I have to go. I don't have a choice."

She poked him lightly in the chest. "Well, you _do_ , but both you and Aedan seem incapable of making a selfish choice."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Alistair muttered, though he smiled fondly down at her. He still found it amazing and humbling that her opinion of him was so high. "If I wasn't capable of making a selfish choice, I would be taking the throne once the Blight was over. Instead, I'm opting out for my own happiness."

She laughed softly. "Well, I think you're allowed at least one selfish choice in your life." She leaned her head against his chest, asking after another moment, "What was Oghren talking about, when he said it was part of your deal?"

"Oh." Alistair debated with himself for a few seconds before deciding he was better off just telling her the truth. "Well, we may have made a deal that he would help me keep you safe as long as I promised to make sure we found Branka."

"Alistair . . ."

"Are you mad?" he asked her quietly, fervently hoping that she wasn't.

She seemed to consider it for a moment before she shook her head. "No, I'm not mad. It's . . . actually kind of sweet. A little bit irritating, but also sweet." She looked up at him, smiling impishly. "Do you think he'd make me the same deal to help protect you?"

He grinned. "Well, you could always ask, I suppose." He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead, before pressing a light kiss there. "As much as I'm worried about you, it also makes me feel better just - having you here, right now. Is that strange?"

"No, not really." She leaned up to give him a soft kiss that both stirred his blood and soothed his nerves, before settling back down on his lap. "I know exactly what you mean."

"You should go to sleep," he told her. "You have the watch next."

"Can't I just sleep here?" she murmured, curling up against his armored chest.

"If that's what you want," he replied, picking his cloak up off the ground next to him where he'd left it and wrapping it around her.

She merely nodded in response, and he watched over her and the others as she fell asleep, determined that they would all get out of the Trenches alive and back to Orzammar safely. He would not - could not - accept any other outcome.


	37. Heart of the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's continual nightmares on the way to the Trenches leave him to desperately seek out Ayla's company to find some form of release; on their arrival at the Trenches, the party sees the archdemon, which nearly overwhelms the Wardens. The party continues on their way through the Trenches, finding a dwarven woman named Hespith and learning the horrible truth about the Broodmother.

Chapter 37: Heart of the Darkness

They were only one night out from reaching the Trenches when Alistair had the worst darkspawn nightmare he'd had yet. He'd been plagued with them every night since leaving Ortan Thaig, and they had grown steadily worse the closer they'd gotten to the Trenches. Every nightmare had been filled with images of his friends being killed in front of him by the archdemon or the darkspawn as he was helpless to save them, Ayla always dying last just before he managed to reach her. This night, she had been literally ripped to pieces in front of him, and he had felt her blood splash his face as her screams rang in his ears before he had finally woken up. She had screamed, begged for him to help her and he _hadn't been able to_.

He woke up clutching the hilt of his sword so hard he could feel his gauntlets breaking the skin, making his hand bleed from the tightness of his grip, but he was able to keep from screaming, at the very least. He dropped his sword, flexing his hand as he looked at Ayla, who lay sleeping only a few feet away. He had not laid down right next to her earlier when he came off watch so as not to disturb her when he did have the nightmare, for even she couldn't chase them away right now. He could see, though, that she was obviously fine, and yet he was desperate with the need to reassure himself she was still alive.

For reasons he didn't fully understand, he could only think of one way to do that right now. He needed to feel her, to have her wrapped around him. He needed release, he needed something to distract him from the crushing, sickening pressure on his spine and head, from the blinding pain, from the nightmare images swimming through his brain. He needed her, desperately, and he could no longer wait.

He slid quietly and carefully across the few feet separating them, and her eyes flashed open instantly as he did so. They flared suddenly in the small light coming from Aedan's lamp where he kept watch, looking much like Striker's eyes would in the darkness, and he realized she must be using her shifting abilities to see better in the dark. "Alistair? What's wrong?" she asked sleepily, sitting up slightly.

"I need you," he replied baldly, breathing out the words so quietly only her ears would pick it up. He was half afraid she would question it or deny him, but she must have seen the desperation in his eyes, for she merely nodded and stood up.

He reached for his sword and stood up with her, incredibly grateful that she had agreed without question. As she walked past him, she whispered, "I saw a spot a little ways back that should work."

He followed her as she headed toward the entrance of the cave in which their party slept. Aedan stood at the entrance with his lamp, his back to them, and Striker lying on the ground at his side. Ayla went to him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded in response, and bent down to Striker, saying quietly, "Go with them, boy. Look after them."

The dog rose fluidly to his feet, wagging his stub of a tail in response, and followed as Ayla left the cave, turning left to go back the way they'd come. Alistair went after them, unable to look Aedan in the eye as he went. He hurried to catch up to Ayla, and took the hand that she extended back to him.

He tried not to squeeze her hand too tightly in his, as he still wore his gauntlets, though he longed to. She pulled him along as they made their way quietly through the tunnels. Every so often, there was a torch they had lighted on their way by that left enough flickering light for them to see their way. She finally stopped in front of what could only be described as a crack in the tunnel wall. She slipped through, and only by turning sideways was Alistair able to squeeze through after her.

She turned back to Striker, and quietly ordered the dog to stay just outside, guarding the entrance, and to alert them if anything came. The dog gave a low bark as if agreeing, and went back to the crack in the tunnel wall. Alistair could not feel the presence of any darkspawn immediately nearby, but he knew there could be deepstalkers, spiders, or any number of other threats, and was grateful to Ayla for thinking of bringing along the dog to alert them.

She pulled her hand out of his and took something out of her pouch, a small orb that glowed and lit up the small area they were in as she set it down. "A present from Morrigan," she explained quietly. "In case we found ourselves down here without any light."

He nodded as he looked around; he could see by the light of the orb that this area was a cave even smaller than the one they'd just left, bare of anything except several rocks, some of them spiky, some of them round, some of them flat on top. It was enclosed on all sides except the way they'd just come in. It would certainly serve their purposes, and yet it was far from an ideal place to be alone with his love.

"I'm sorry." He felt shame burning through him, but it wasn't powerful enough to outweigh his need as he tugged off his gauntlets, dropping them on the ground. "I know this isn't exactly . . . romantic, but –"

She shook her head, her fingers already busy working at the laces of her drakescale armor. "It's nothing to worry about, Alistair. I need this just as much as you do." She looked up at him and smiled slightly, her eyes filled with both gentle acceptance and a need as desperate as his own.

He nodded, feeling relief flood him as he realized there was no more need for words between them. She understood. He put his sword down and began to strip off the rest of his armor, unbuckling the pieces and dropping them to the ground unceremoniously as she put her own swords on the ground and stepped out of her armor and boots.

He was only about halfway through his own armor when she came to help him, wearing nothing but her smallclothes, her bare skin gleaming in the light of Morrigan's magic orb. He felt his body vibrating with a desperate need and craving for hers as she began to strip off the rest of his armor. Soon, he was in nothing but his smallclothes, as well, a small pile of his armor stacked around them.

He looked down at her and saw the heat creeping into her gaze as she studied him. Unable to wait or control himself any longer, he crushed her to him, taking her mouth in a possessive kiss that echoed his desperate need. He groaned into her mouth at the relief of tasting her, feeling the answering moan vibrate from her throat into his mouth as he scooped her up.

He somehow kept his head enough as they tried to devour each other's mouths to find a flat rock to lay her down on. He pulled back from her, taking a few shuddering breaths as he reached for her breastband. "I can't be gen–" he started to stay, trying to explain himself, but she interrupted him.

"I know. Neither can I." She sat up, unwrapping her breastband herself and tossing it aside. He took the opportunity to remove his smallclothes, as she did hers as well.

He growled low in his throat as she finally lay bare before him, a sight he had not seen in what seemed like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. He swooped back down to take her mouth again, bracing himself with one arm as the other began to drift over her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she returned his kiss with passionate longing, and he took the opportunity to squeeze her breast, tweak her nipple, and then finally slid his hand down to the juncture of her thighs, plunging his fingers into her without ceremony.

She gasped and nipped his bottom lip, hard, as her hands clawed tightly at his hair. He knew they couldn't take long about this, even if he had been able to. So he curled his fingers and moved them in and out relentlessly, rubbing in circles with his thumb deliberately hard and fast. She pulled away from his mouth as he did so, nipped at his earlobe, and sank her teeth into his shoulder hard. He hissed at the sensation, his hand halting as he was temporarily unable to concentrate from the electric jolt of lust.

She raised her head, fixing him with a fierce gaze. "I don't need you to make me ready. I need you inside me. _Now_."

He didn't question her, didn't deny her. Not that he ever could. He slipped his hand out and thrust into her abruptly. She let out a strangled groan as her head tipped back and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He shuddered in relief at the silken feel of her, the heat of her clenching around him.

She tugged on his hair and nipped at his shoulder again, arching her hips, and that was enough for him to lose what little of his mind he had left. He took up a fast, frenzied rhythm, driving deeper into her, wanting to go so deep that they would never be apart.

It was the roughest they'd ever been with each other; they used every trick they knew of each other to drive their lust higher, faster, knowing how little spare time they had. They bit at each other wherever they could reach, she raked her nails down his back over and over again, they crashed together with frantic speed. When they kissed, it was hard, desperate, a tangle of teeth and tongues. It was not a union of love right now but of incredible, unassailable need.

When his release did hit at last, it was together with hers, hitting him with the force of a blow as she clamped down tightly around him, and he cried out, thrusting violently into her a few more times as he emptied deep within her. He collapsed on top of her, bracing his weight somewhat on his arms as he did so, but otherwise he didn't bother to move, not sure that he even could.

They lay together like that for several moments, both panting to catch their breath and, at least in Alistair's case, bring his scrambled thoughts back together. His first dim thought was that he'd been so caught up in his own needs he hadn't even made sure she'd gone first as he normally did. This was, quite possibly, the first time they'd climaxed together, he realized. His second thought was that she must be uncomfortable, pressed down into the rock.

He raised himself up enough to look down at her. "Are you all right?" he asked, still somewhat out of breath.

She nodded, smiling the most genuine smile he'd seen on her down here in the Deep Roads. "Much better," she purred, stretching and arching her back, making him realize he was still deep inside her, though he didn't feel inclined to change that just yet. She reached up and cradled his cheek gently. "What about you?"

He paused, taking a moment to think about it. The desperation he'd been filled with since he awoke earlier was gone; in fact, he felt better than he had in days. All the tension was drained out of his body, and though he could still feel the heavy pressure along his spine, up the base of his neck and into his head that meant the horde was very near, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as it had been previously. It actually felt . . . manageable. "Really . . . a lot better," he admitted, surprised.

"Good," she smiled, dropping her hand back down. "May I ask . . . what brought this on?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was a darkspawn nightmare. Well, I've been having them every night on the way here, but it was especially bad tonight. And I just . . . I needed . . ." he stopped abruptly as his gaze, roving over her, noticed suddenly that she was bleeding in half a dozen places where he'd bit her. "Ayla . . . I . . ." he touched his hand carefully to the blood, appalled.

She caught his hand, bringing it up to her mouth to kiss his fingers. "Look at yourself before you start to feel guilty. You're a lot worse off than I am," she told him gently. "And I told you, I needed that as much as you did. I needed the relief . . . the release . . . just as much."

He looked down at his own body, realizing she was right; he was bleeding in just as many places as she was. And now that he thought about it, his back was stinging too from the rake of her nails. "You're not . . . upset?" he managed finally.

She shook her head, a wicked grin spreading over her face. "No, quite the contrary. I am extraordinarily satisfied and ready to face those Trenches."

He grinned in answer, feeling both relief and amusement flood him. He wouldn't have been able to bear it if she'd been upset or hurt at the way he used her; to realize that they had used each other and both of them had needed it, had enjoyed it, made him feel incredibly better, a boost to his spirits he had greatly needed down here. "I am glad to hear it. I think I'm more than ready to face the Trenches as well. You seem to have . . . relieved the pressure the presence of the horde puts on me, love."

Her eyes softened as she pulled him down for a tender kiss. "I am more than happy to help. Anything that you need, Alistair, you have only to ask."

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, his heart overflowing with warmth for her. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Her eyes were glowing with the warmth that he felt as she nodded. "Alistair . . . of _course_ I do. Just as you know that I love you, always." She pulled his head down to cradle against her chest for a moment, which he was only too happy to allow, before she sighed. "We should get back. My watch is next and we can't leave Aedan alone much longer."

He pulled himself away from her, nodding reluctantly, knowing she was right even as he didn't want to leave. "You're right, we should get going."

They took a healing potion for the wounds they had left on each other, and cleaned themselves up as best they could with scraps of cloth and water from their canteens before they dressed. Ayla, of course, was done first and helped Alistair get his armor back on before picking up her orb and heading to the entrance.

He stopped her just after they'd stepped outside of the cave and determined that there were no threats nearby, Striker still calmly waiting for them. "Thank you, Ayla," he murmured sincerely.

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling warmly, "though I should be thanking you as well." She kissed him softly, sweetly. "Now come on, we have a Paragon to find and a promise to keep."

He followed her back to their camp, filled with a renewed determination. They would find Branka, as he had promised Oghren, and they would all get back safely.

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His resolve was somewhat shaken the next day when they finally reached the Trenches themselves. They were on a cliff, overlooking a massive canyon far below filled with thousands of darkspawn. He could barely make out the individual shapes of the creatures, even by the light of the torches they carried, as he peeked over the edge. And for the first time he could remember since he'd started sensing them properly, he could not get anything approaching an exact count.

Though the pressure was indeed far more manageable than it had been before, he could still feel it bearing down on him, crawling up and down his spine in a sickening fashion as the teeming masses marched by below. He knew where they were going; they were finally heading for the surface. He looked over at Aedan, saw the grim question in his eyes, and nodded his answer. Their time was running out.

Just as they were about to turn back from the edge and head to the bridge they could see spanning the canyon in the distance, Alistair heard the roar. The one he'd only ever heard in his nightmares. He froze in horror, wondering if he was truly awake, as the archdemon flew up from the canyon ahead of them, landing on the bridge far away. It spewed dark, tainted flame over the canyon below, before roaring again.

This time, for the first time ever, as the roar shook his body and vibrated through his brain, he could hear it. He could make out what the archdemon was saying. _March. March to the surface. March on the humans. Kill. Destroy. Maim. Taint **everything**._ The voice twisted through his brain, seductive, dark, frightening, hollow. He felt the strangest urge to go, to follow the archdemon and do as it said. He battled with himself, trying to suppress the urge, using every ounce of control and discipline he had ever learned.

"Alistair! ALISTAIR!" It was the frantic worry in her voice that brought him back to himself. He realized with a shock of surprise that he was on his knees, his hands pressed over ears as he tried to block out the sound of the archdemon's voice. Ayla was crouched in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. Her face was stamped with worry and fear and her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

He dropped his hands from his ears, pulling her into him, resting his head on her shoulder. Beyond her, he could see the archdemon flying away through the underground, following the horde as they left. It had known they were there, he was sure of it. Why had it left? Was it not worried about them at all? Or did it wish to take advantage of the fact that they weren't on the surface? He didn't know, but whatever the reason was, he was grateful. He wasn't ready to face the archdemon just yet.

He held Ayla tightly, breathing deeply, settling his nerves and steadying himself. Looking around, he could see Aedan just getting to his feet, being helped up by Morrigan. He stood up as well, pulling Ayla up with him. "I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered in her ear.

She pulled back from him, shaking her head, looking much calmer. "It doesn't matter. As long as you're fine now."

"I am," he reassured her, watching as Aedan came over to him. The others were watching with varying expressions of concern, worry, or even vague suspicion. "Did you hear what it said too?" he asked Aedan softly as he reached them.

Aedan was grim, his grey eyes dark with worry and a touch of fear. "I heard it talking. I still can't understand it yet, but I know I . . . wanted to go. I wanted to follow it. What did it say?"

Alistair shook his head. If Aedan hadn't heard it, there was no reason to burden him with it. "Nothing much. It was just . . . stirring them up to march on the surface. I felt like I wanted to follow it, too. It was a struggle not to, until I heard Ayla."

Aedan nodded. "Same here." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, smiling down at Morrigan next to him, who returned the expression, her eyes warmer than Alistair had ever seen them. He smiled to himself. He was suddenly quite certain his Warden brother had well and truly caught the witch, even if she didn't know it yet.

"Well," Aedan continued after a moment, "we had better hurry, then. It appears there is no better time to be at the Dead Trenches looking for someone, but we need to get going so we can get back to the surface and face the horde."

Alistair nodded in agreement as the others approached. "You two Wardens mind sharing what in the sodding Stone happened back there?" Oghren demanded as he stopped in front of them, gaze faintly suspicious.

"It's a Warden issue," Aedan replied smoothly. "We can sense the darkspawn, and the archdemon being there along with the horde was a little . . . overwhelming. But it's gone now, so everything is fine."

"Uh-huh." Oghren regarded them for another long moment before producing his flask and taking a long pull from it. "If you say so."

"If that was the archdemon, we should follow it," Sten rumbled, crossing his arms as he stared in the direction the horde had gone. "It is the purpose of our journey."

"No," Alistair said before Aedan could, surprising himself. "We won't catch up to it, not the way it was going. And it would be suicide to face that horde without an army backing us. We need to find Branka and get the dwarves to pledge their support. _Then_ we gather our troops and go after the archdemon."

"Alistair's right," Aedan agreed. "We aren't prepared yet to face the archdemon or the horde. We need more time. But I promise you, Sten, we will get there."

The qunari met Aedan's gaze for a long time before he finally nodded. "Fine. It shall be as you say. Let us be on our way, then."

They made their way over to the bridge, Aedan and Alistair in the lead, with the others following closely. As they got closer to the bridge, Alistair realized there were darkspawn coming across it, at least twenty of them nearby, more of them further behind at the immense gate across the way. It was immediately after that he saw the line of dwarves at the end of the bridge they were approaching.

"I didn't realize the dwarves came so far into the Deep Roads," Aedan murmured as he spotted them.

Oghren snorted from behind them. "Probably the Legion of the Dead. Those crazy nug-lickers will go anywhere down here. They all have a death wish."

As if in answer to what Oghren had said, one of the dwarves who was slightly ahead of the others roared at the darkspawn advancing across the bridge, "Let them come! It saves us the walk to their lair!"

The darkspawn sped up as the dwarves in their dark armor rushed to meet them, and Aedan drew his sword. "We'd better help them."

Alistair drew his own sword and readied his shield, following Aedan into the fray. Though there were many darkspawn, with the aid of the dwarves and the strength of their entire party, they began to cut their way through. As soon as a hole appeared in the ranks of the darkspawn, Aedan began to press their way forward, moving across the bridge as more darkspawn appeared from the other end.

It was slow going, fighting their way through the darkspawn that seemed to appear from all sides as they got to the end of the bridge and kept fighting their way towards the huge double doors, many times taller than a human or even a qunari, but eventually, when Alistair cut down the Hurlock in front of him, there wasn't another one to take its place. He looked around, seeing the others finishing off other darkspawn all around him, but no new ones appearing.

The dwarves had followed them across, and the one who had shouted before came up to Aedan and shook his hand. Alistair could hear him say something that sounded like, "Well, Warden, I'll give you credit for backbone. You've dug a line through the spawn," before he turned to make sure Ayla was okay.

She was standing several feet away, in the midst of a few genlock corpses as she cleaned her swords off. She didn't appear to be harmed at all, and smiled when she saw him looking, making him smile in answer. There had to be something wrong with him, he decided, when he found the sight of her covered in blood with the light of battle still in her eyes as arousing as the sight of her in that dress. But, he realized, he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when everything about her made him feel so much better.

But, he reminded himself as Aedan walked past him, there wasn't time for that. They were truly in the Trenches now, and there would be no more opportunities to get her alone until they were done here.

"That _was_ the Legion of the Dead back there," Aedan said as he began walking past the corpses of the darkspawn, heading to the left of the massive doors. "Their leader, Kardol, says those doors don't open, but there should be a tunnel around the side here that will bring us further into the Trenches."

"Has he seen Branka or the Anvil?" Alistair asked as he followed, the others all gathering their weapons and following after them.

Aedan shook his head. "No. He seems to think we're crazy for trying to find either down here."

Alistair snorted. "Maybe we are."

"Probably," Aedan agreed. "But even if we don't find the Anvil, we _did_ find evidence that Branka came to the Trenches. And it's her that we need, not the Anvil. Now that we're here, we might as well keep going until we find her, alive or dead."

Alistair nodded. "You're right." He hesitated for a moment as they found the tunnel and continued down it. "You know, even though the horde itself is gone, there are still a lot of darkspawn here. Possibly more than a hundred." He could feel it now that they were going around the doors.

"I know." Aedan's expression was impassive as he met Alistair's gaze. "We have no choice but to keep going."

Ayla slipped up next to him then, looping her arm through his. "It will be fine," she promised them. "We're all here with you."

"Ayla is quite right," Morrigan agreed, appearing next to Aedan. "We will find this dwarf woman and leave this wretched place as soon as possible."

Aedan grinned down at the witch before turning to Alistair. "Shall we go then?"

"Let's find her," Alistair said, hoping as they made their way through the tunnel that the others were right. He did not want the Dead Trenches to be the last thing he ever saw.

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Ayla was getting truly sick of the Trenches. It was the third day since they'd entered the wretched place, and there seemed to be nothing but stone room and tunnel after stone room and tunnel. Many times their way forward had been damaged or blocked and they'd had to find another way around to keep going. Sometimes stones would crumble and fall around them as they went, and she was beginning to fear it would be a caved-in roof that would kill them, not the darkspawn.

Not that there was any shortage of those, either. Every room they came upon seemed to have clusters of darkspawn to fight, and sometimes even undead skeletons like they'd seen in Redcliffe, or shades like they'd seen in the Brecilian Forest. More than once, one of their party got so seriously injured in the battles they fought that both Morrigan and Wynne would have to spend several minutes healing them.

Fortunately, no one had yet been beyond their ability to heal, but it was a very good thing that they had both of them down here. It also helped that there was actual lyrium sources here as well that the two mages could draw from to keep their magic power up. But regardless of the fact that everything was going as well as could be expected, Ayla's spirits were dragging.

The smell in the Trenches was even worse than elsewhere in the Deep Roads, to the point that it was making her nearly constantly nauseous. And the constant lack of the sun and sky, and the pressure of the stone all around her, was making her feeling almost unbearably anxious. Had she not experienced such a shattering release with Alistair only days ago, she might have lost her mind to panic by now. The release of tension and desperate need they'd felt for each other had done them both much good, however. Alistair had seemed to be doing much better since then, other than that brief and frightening moment with the archdemon. But he'd said the sound of her voice had brought him back, so she had hope that it would work again should they face the archdemon once more.

She tried to bring back that feeling of utter relief she'd felt in that cave whenever the Trenches got to be too much. They would get out of here, she vowed, and she would have some proper time alone with him, not a stolen moment in a dark cave. And she would see the sun and feel the fresh air on her face again. That was what she clung to in the dark moments when she felt like she might break down. Like right now. She could smell the blood and rotting flesh that she knew was just through that break in the stone wall ahead. And some of that blood . . . it smelled fairly fresh.

That was when she heard it. An eerie, monotone female voice drifting along from ahead of them. "First day they come and catch everyone."

"Did you hear that?" Aedan demanded in a low voice from in front of her, turning to look back at her. "What was it?"

She nodded. The voice had given her the urge to run, the instinct she'd only felt a few times before; at Ostagar, before the battle with the high dragon, and just before the archdemon had appeared. Why it should have, she didn't know, but she shivered from the feel of it. "I heard it. It sounded like a woman's voice."

"Branka?" asked Alistair, hope in his voice as he came up next to her.

She shrugged and looked back at Oghren, as did the two Wardens. "What're you all looking at me for?" the dwarf exclaimed. "I didn't hear anything! We'll need to keep going if you want to find out if it's Branka."

"Right," Aedan nodded, climbing through the break in the wall. "Keep listening, Oghren, and let us know if it's Branka."

"Wait." Ayla grabbed Alistair's arm, hating herself for hesitating, for being afraid. "I don't think –"

"What's wrong?" He turned to look at her, concern in his hazel eyes.

"Something's not right. I can feel it. There's something very dangerous up ahead," she replied in a low voice.

He blinked, cocked his head, his eyes taking on that blank look they did when he was trying to get a sense of how many darkspawn there were. "There is . . . a kind of darkspawn up ahead I'm not familiar with, as well as some others. But it's much farther away than that voice is. And if that was Branka . . ." he trailed off, looking at her with regret.

She huffed out a breath. "I know, I know. We have to go look. Let's just . . . be careful, all right?"

He nodded. "I promise." He turned to follow Aedan, climbing through the wall.

She followed, too, and the entire party began to make their way through the new tunnel. It was a tunnel filled with piles of dead and rotting flesh, sickening, hideous lumps made into crude statues that distinctly reminded Ayla of the Circle Tower when it was infested with demons. What was worse, as they made their way through the tunnel, was the female voice weaving a terrifying poem, one line at a time. "Second day they beat us and eat some for meat. Third day the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day we wait and fear for our fate. Fifth day they return and it's another girl's turn. Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams. Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day we hated as she is violated. Ninth day she grins and devours her kin."

The last line, "Now she does feast, as she's become the beast," was delivered as they arrived at the end of the tunnel, entering a stone room. In the middle of a pile of grotesquely twisted, half eaten, rotting corpses stood a dwarf woman. She was dressed in rags, her head tilted in the same odd fashion as Ruck as she began to repeat the poem over again, her eyes shining dull and silver out of a face covered in lesions. Just looking at her made Ayla's stomach roil uncomfortably.

Aedan looked at Oghren, who was staring at the woman in a kind of horrified recognition. He took a long gulp from his flask, but shook his head. "That's not Branka," he whispered. "But I do know her. That's Hespith – she's from our house."

"We're close, then," Aedan murmured. "She might know where Branka is." He approached the woman, stopping only a few feet away as she looked up at him. Everyone else hung back, Ayla especially, as she took deep breaths to try to manage her nausea.

Hespith tilted her head at Aedan as he stopped. "What is this? A human? Bland and unlikely. Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors."

"We are no dream," Aedan said softly, obviously trying to reassure the woman. "We . . . we can help you."

Hespith shook her head violently. "No. No, you can't. There's nothing left. There's body and there's hope, and both are turning . . . They come. They . . . they vomit, they violate, and they chant. They scream, oh, how they scream . . . Then the change comes." She paused, her eyes gleaming with a terrifying madness as they all listened to her in horror, before she continued, "All I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared. But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How do you endure that? How did Branka endure?"

The mention of the whole reason they were here seemed to snap Aedan out of the daze they'd all been in as they listened to her. "Branka! Where is she?" he asked desperately.

Hespith backed away, shaking her head, gesturing wildly with her hands. "D-do not talk of Branka, of what she did. Ancestors preserve us, forgive me. I was her captain, and I didn't stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her . . . but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become."

_Her lover_? Ayla wondered, trying to focus on a fact that wasn't utterly terrifying as she looked back at Oghren, who looked shocked at the new information. Aedan, meanwhile, pressed the dwarf woman for more. "What did she do? What did Branka do?"

"I will not speak of her!" Hespith shrieked. "Of what she did, of what we have become! I will not turn! I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!"

Before any of them could stop her, the dwarf woman broke past them and fled out another door, in the opposite direction from where they'd come. And Ayla had a sinking feeling it was in the direction of the unusual darkspawn Alistair had sensed.

"Well," Oghren said weakly, being the first to break the stunned silence, "I guess that explains why Branka left me behind. I didn't sodding know they were –" he shook his head, breaking off to drink more out of his flask. "Doesn't matter anyway. It sounds like Branka was alive, the way Hespith was talking."

"Alive, yes, though it sounds like she's done something terrible," Aedan replied grimly. "But . . . I suppose we have no choice but to follow Hespith."

So saying, he went towards the door she'd left through, and the others followed, Ayla more reluctantly. Whatever was wrong with Hespith, it was worse than what had been wrong with Ruck, and as ashamed as she was to admit, it made her scared. Scared for herself, for her own safety, something she couldn't ever recall being in her life. But she was sure that becoming like that would be worse than dying in battle.

"Are you going to be okay?" Alistair whispered as she passed him at the door.

"I – yes," she answered quickly, wanting to chase away the worry in his eyes. He had more than enough to concern himself with. "Just seeing Hespith like that . . . frightened me a little. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It was . . . horrible," he said softly, pulling her briefly into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise you, I won't let anything like that happen to you."

It was probably irrational for her to feel better at his promise, but she did anyway. And she felt guilty for seeking comfort from him when he had so much to bear himself, but she leaned against him anyway, breathing in his smell. His arms tightened around her briefly before his head suddenly jerked up. "Ogres," he said tightly. "Two of them."

That was all she needed to hear; they pulled apart and raced after the others, drawing their swords as they went. They spotted the ogres lumbering towards their party on the stone balcony the door had led out onto, Aedan shouting instructions as the ogres roared and picked up speed.

Sten and Oghren took on one together, while Leliana, Morrigan, and Wynne fired arrows and long range spells at both to keep them busy. Zevran, Striker, and Aedan worked at keeping the second ogre occupied while Ayla and Alistair circled around to its back. In a repeat of what had become almost second nature to them now, Ayla took a running leap off Alistair's back and sunk her swords into the ogre's back, bringing it roaring down to the ground for the others to sink finishing blows into.

Before they could do the same to the other ogre, Sten and Oghren had somehow succeeded in bringing it down, finishing it off with blows to its neck and torso. Ayla sprung off the back of the first ogre, somehow feeling considerably better. Ogres and regular darkspawn, things that she could kill, she could deal with that. It was something solid, something tangible, not a nebulous, frightening unknown gnawing at her instincts.

They took a look around the stone balcony to try to figure out where Hespith went. Two closed doors led off the balcony, which was suspended above lava, meaning she had to have gone through one of the doors. The largest one was locked, so they made their way through the second one, finding a large stone hall that looked almost like a Chantry or other religious hall.

They made their way to the altar at the end, and when they discovered a key on it, they were suddenly attacked by several angry shades. With the help of Wynne and Morrigan's magic, they were able to defeat the otherworldly beings, making their way back to the balcony.

Just as they were approaching the locked door to use the key, Ayla heard Hespith's voice again. She held up her hand, halting the others for a moment as she strained to listen. "She became obsessed – that is the word, but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil."

There was a pause before Hespith went on, "We tried to escape, but they found us. Took us all – turned us. The men they kill . . . they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them." At that, she stopped, and not hearing anything more for a moment, Ayla nodded to Aedan to go ahead and unlock the door as she told the others what she'd heard.

"What – what does she mean they want to change the women?" Leliana asked weakly, looking as horrified as Ayla felt.

Ayla shook her head, feeling even sicker to her stomach than before. "I don't know. I'm not sure . . . I want to know."

"It doesn't matter," Aedan said fiercely, his gaze fixed on Morrigan, who was doing her best to look like her usual unconcerned self, though Ayla knew her well enough to see the worry in her eyes. "We won't let them, okay? We won't let them touch _any_ of you. Now let's go."

"Of course, we won't," Alistair agreed, meeting Ayla's gaze firmly, though she could the fear for her lurking in the depths of his eyes, before he wrapped a comforting arm around her as Aedan unlocked the door. The other men all nodded in agreement, adding their pledges as well.

Once the door was open, Aedan led the way through, followed by Oghren and Zevran. Ayla, Morrigan, Leliana and Wynne came next, and Alistair and Sten took up the rear with Striker to keep them safe from any possible attack from behind. If she hadn't been so terrified about what Hespith had meant, Ayla might have been annoyed or insulted at the notion that the women needed to be protected. But just right now, in this strange world full of strange and awful things, she was grateful.

That gratitude only increased as they made their way through the next small stone room, and Ayla heard Hespith's voice coming from ahead again. "They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood. And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and smelled like them. They remade her in their image. And she made more of them."

They had followed a tunnel as Hespith continued to speak, this time loud enough that the others could hear, and as they turned the last corner, Hespith's final word drifted past them. "Broodmother . . ."

When Ayla saw what was around the corner, when she stared into the heart of the unnatural darkness that was Thedas, everything that Hespith had been saying fell into place for her with shocking clarity. She dropped to her knees, unable to control the sudden, wrenching nausea that caused her to heave up the contents of her stomach as she realized just what change Hespith was talking about. As she realized just what terrifying fate might lie in store for her if she couldn't get out of here. She knew without a doubt now that she would rather die, by her own hand if necessary, than let herself become one of those things. She would never let it happen.


	38. Paragon of Her Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party fights with the Broodmother and a stream of darkspawn, a difficult battle that ends with two of their party seriously wounded, forcing them into a temporary retreat to allow them to heal. Alistair and Zevran have a serious discussion involving Ayla, and the party finally finds Branka at long last.

Chapter 38: Paragon of Her Kind

The smell was the worst part, Ayla decided, as she leaned over with her hands braced on the ground, breathing deeply to steady herself. The sight of the broodmother was horrible, certainly, as it was an enormous creature, bald, fleshy, with many disgusting udders dangling from its rolls of flesh, tentacles protruding from the ground around it. The squelching sounds that came from its movement as it flopped back and forth in place, screeching, were horrendous, too. As was the fairly certain knowledge that the broodmother had once been a dwarf named Laryn. That part she could at least try to bury in her mind and not think about. But the smell? She couldn't escape it.

She'd thought that the Deep Roads themselves smelled bad, as well as all the decaying bits of flesh and corpses they'd passed on the way here. None of those had anything on this creature. It smelled like something rotting, dying, already dead, or perhaps a combination of all three. It smelled like a thousand decaying corpses on a humid summer battlefield. She was sure it was the smell combined with the sheer abomination of nature that had caused her stomach to rebel.

Now that her stomach was empty, however, the nausea seemed to be gone, or at least not noticeable compared to before. She was taking a few more steadying breaths when she heard Alistair say, "Oh, Maker, what is _that_?" behind her. She was about to move to look at him when he exclaimed, "Ayla!" and she felt him drop down next to her, rubbing a hand along her back.

Just his touch gave her strength, a feeling of comfort and relief that pierced through the horror and the terror she was feeling - or rather trying very hard _not_ to feel. "I won't let that happen to you," he whispered in her ear. "I swear it to you. But can you promise me something?"

She rocked back so she was sitting on her heels and could look him in the eye. "What?"

He met her gaze, a determined look blooming in his eyes. "If . . . something goes wrong down here and it looks like we won't get out, I want you to run. I want you to shift and run away, leave us behind. Please."

She shook her head violently, even as the terrified part of her shamed her by wanting to agree. "No! I won't leave you behind! I won't leave any of you behind!"

He gripped her hands in his tightly, the look on his face a mixture of both terror for her and open pleading. " _Please_. You heard what Hespith said; they'll just kill us. You . . they'll turn you into . . . that." He jerked his head at the broodmother. "I can't – I can't bear to even think of it, okay? So _promise me_."

She could feel his hands shake in hers, even as he gripped them so tightly her hands were starting to hurt as she stared at him. She could hear Aedan asking Morrigan the same thing in a low voice – "If you have to, fly away and don't come back for us. Get away as fast as you can," – as her self-preservation warred with her fear of losing Alistair.

After a long moment, she nodded, slowly, reluctantly. She already knew she couldn't let herself become that thing, so if she had to, she would run. But – "Only if I absolutely have to," she vowed quietly. "Only if there's no other way out. And I don't think that will happen."

He let out a breath, relief flashing across his face as he nodded. "I don't think it will, either, but I'd rather know you will be safe if it did." He stood up, pulling her easily to her feet. "Are you okay to fight?"

She nodded. "I feel better now that my stomach is empty. Just . . . one thing." She stepped forward so there was no distance between the two of them, pressing her nose into the bare flesh of his neck above his armor, breathing in deeply. She was desperate to fill her senses with something other than that smell, even if it was only temporary. And there were few smells she liked better in this world than his.

He held her tightly while she breathed him in, one hand pressed to her head and the other to her back. She felt his lips press into her hair before she finally pulled away. She turned to the others and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, everyone, but the smell was a bit too much for me."

"There is no need to apologize," Leliana replied, looking a bit green herself. "It is bad enough for me, so I can only imagine how it must be for you."

The others all nodded in agreement, and the broodmother chose that opportunity to screech loudly again as it flailed its tentacles around. Aedan scowled and looked over his shoulder at it. "Well, it appears that it can't move to come attack us, but neither can we just leave it there. It will only create more darkspawn."

Wynne nodded in grim agreement. "If I understood Hespith correctly, that thing used to be a dwarf woman. If any part of her can still understand what is going on, I am certain she would appreciate being put out of her misery."

Sten reached for his greatsword, unsheathing it as he strode forward. "It is an abomination, and should be destroyed."

"Not to mention, that shrieking is probably calling other darkspawn here," Alistair added as he drew his own sword, readying his shield. "We should stop it before we get swarmed."

"What are we waiting for then?" Oghren demanded, before storming forward and chopping at a tentacle. The creature shrieked in pain as the tentacle recoiled for a moment before lashing back and knocking Oghren to the ground.

Ayla drew her own swords and raced forward to his aid, as did the others, though they were soon all facing tentacles of their own. They seemed to multiply out of the ground around them as they got closer to the broodmother, and Ayla couldn't help but notice that the ground around her seemed to be made of flesh as well. Was all of it part of the creature?

She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as she had to dodge, roll, and flip out of the way of the lashing tentacles. She tried at first just to get past them to the broodmother itself, to end the creature at its source, but it kept itself well defended. And as Alistair had predicted, darkspawn were soon racing out of the tunnels behind it to join the fight.

She cut down a genlock as it came howling at her, then stumbled forward from a lash to the back by a tentacle. She was briefly considering shifting to increase her speed, although it would be a drain on her strength, when she saw Alistair get knocked towards another tentacle by a blow from a Hurlock. The tentacle was curling itself forward, looking as though it intended to scoop him up, and she froze for a brief, shameful moment, torn between wanting to save him and terrified of what would happen to her if she got in the way.

Then the thought of what would happen to him broke through and she lurched forward, racing to help him, but before she got there, Zevran appeared and shoved him out of the way. The tentacle wrapped itself around Zevran and lifted him into the air, pulling him towards the broodmother as it squeezed and the elf cried out in pain, his head slumping forward as the tentacle squeezed harder yet.

She veered towards Zevran instead; she couldn't let something happen to him either, especially not when he'd done what she should have. She spun out of the way of more darkspawn and another tentacle as she went. Alistair, obviously seeing where she was going, took down another darkspawn trying to get in her way and did his best to clear a path for her.

She shifted as she ran, making a split second decision, and the panther leaped with full force at the tentacle bringing Zevran towards the broodmother. She hit it dead on, digging in with her front claws and raking the length of the tentacle below Zevran as she fell back down to the ground. The broodmother let out a terrible scream and the tentacle released the elf. He fell to the ground with a thud.

She pounced on another Hurlock going for his prone form and snapped its neck with her jaws, careful not to break the thing's skin, before shifting back as quickly as she could. She didn't want to stay in that form any longer than she had to in a lengthy fight. She sucked in a breath from the agonizing wrench of the quick change, and might have been hit in that brief, paralyzing moment if Oghren hadn't leaped between her and the next darkspawn, swinging his greataxe at its head.

She took the opportunity to grab Zevran under his arms and pull him out of the way, dragging him back to where Wynne stood, casting spells. Alistair had covered her retreat as soon as he had been able to, with Oghren's help. Although he was clearly injured and unconscious, she was incredibly relieved to note that Zevran appeared to be still alive and breathing. She left him with Wynne, who whistled for Striker to help guard the two of them while the mage alternated between attacking the darkspawn and healing Zevran when she had a brief moment.

Ayla headed back into the fight, noticing that the number of both tentacles and darkspawn finally seemed to be decreasing. She just might be able to make it through to the broodmother itself. She was determined to reach it and end the fight, to redeem herself for what she had almost let happen due to her cowardice and fear. She would not hesitate again.

She had nearly reached the broodmother's body, swords out and at the ready, when she heard a piercing scream. Was that – Morrigan? she wondered, startled. She whipped around quickly, and saw it was indeed Morrigan who had screamed, a mix of grief and fury on her face. She followed the line of her friend's gaze and saw Aedan with a darkspawn's sword piercing forward through his chest, as he dropped to his knees and hit the ground face-first. He'd been facing two darkspawn in front and obviously hadn't seen the blow from behind. The darkspawn that had struck the blow appeared to have fallen to one of Leliana's arrows just seconds afterwards.

A sudden powerful burst of electrical energy shot forth from Morrigan and blasted through all the darkspawn and tentacles surrounding Aedan's fallen body. It obliterated everything in its path within a matter of seconds, and the broodmother shrieked again, flailing wildly about. Just barely rolling out of the way of another tentacle, having been distracted by her friend's grief, Ayla knew it was now or never.

She sprinted forward, as fast as she could ever remember going as a human, and leapt, landing swords first halfway up the broodmother. It gave another terrible scream, reaching for her with one of its hands, as its remaining tentacles appeared to be occupied, but she pulled a sword out, gripping hard to the other one, and slashed at its hand, knocking it out of the way.

She climbed up towards its head as quickly as she could, feeling the creature getting weaker with every sword stab. She had just reached the top of it and leapt onto its back behind its head when Sten buried his greatsword in the front of the creature, as high as he could reach, yanking viciously downwards as a fountain of ichor-like blood spurted out. It let out a keening, gurgling cry as she stood behind its head and finished the job by slitting its throat with her swords.

The creature's head slumped forward onto its neck; its arms fell limply by its sides and the few remaining tentacles the others were still battling came crashing to the ground. From her vantage point, she could see that there were only three remaining darkspawn, which were quickly cut down by the rest of the party on the ground.

She took a quick look to make sure that Alistair was one of the ones still on his feet; he was and as soon as she noted that, she jumped down. The shock of the landing, as the broodmother's head had been surprisingly high up, reverberated through her feet and up her legs, nearly making her fall forward. She was able to stay upright, though, and after a moment, hurried over to where Aedan had fallen. Alistair was right behind her, and Morrigan was already kneeling at Aedan's side, his head cradled in her lap as she cast healing magic.

"Morrigan." She knelt next to her friend, carefully touching her arm. "How – how bad is he?"

The darkspawn sword had been removed and tossed aside, but the hole in his chest was still there, alarmingly large and oozing blood at an equally alarming rate. Morrigan's whole body glowed blue, a glow that passed into the wound as she cast her spell. "I – I believe he will live." Morrigan's voice sounded shaky and not at all like herself, but there was a hard edge of determination in her stare when she looked up.

Alistair's hand landed on Ayla's shoulder and he squeezed; she put her hand over his and squeezed back, looking up into his eyes. They were burning with worry and grief, making her heart ache for him even as she herself worried about Aedan; he was her friend too. "He's going to be okay," she told him softly. "You Wardens are strong, remember? But maybe you should see if Wynne can come help, if Zevran is all right now."

"Right," he took a deep breath, nodding in agreement, before releasing her shoulder. "I'll go get her. And – here." He took a healing potion out of his pouch and handed it to her before he turned and went looking for Wynne.

Ayla had two left herself; she dug one out of her pouch also, leaving one behind in case of a later emergency, before looking up at Morrigan. "Will these help?"

The witch nodded. "They – they would be a good supplement for the spell, especially if they are the more potent ones I made recently. If you are able to, could you - ?"

"I've got it," Ayla interrupted gently. She set one potion down, opening the other and carefully tilting Aedan's head up before pouring it down his throat. She repeated the action with the other potion and was relieved to note that the blood flow had slowed dramatically and the wound had shrunk, albeit only a small amount.

The others had begun to gather around them by this time, followed shortly by Wynne and Alistair. Zevran was still over where he had been earlier, though Ayla was pleased to see that he was sitting up. "Zevran is conscious and able to move, though still not fully recovered," Wynne reported as she reached them. "Everyone else is well enough."

Ayla moved out of the way so that Wynne could assess Aedan's condition and help Morrigan. As Alistair pulled her to her feet, Sten came up to him. "If he is able to be moved, we should retreat to a more defensible position. Other darkspawn may soon follow, and this is not an ideal location to continue the fight."

_Not to mention we aren't in any condition to fight more right now_ , Ayla thought, just barely managing to refrain from rolling her eyes. What they needed right now was to rest before they pressed on further looking for Branka.

"You're right," Alistair replied. "We should move back to that stone hall with the altar where we found the key. There should be no more shades in it and it only has one door. It would be the best place to rest until we're all recovered and able to go on."

Sten nodded, looking satisfied with Alistair's answer. "A wise decision, Warden. Shall we go?"

Alistair looked down at the two mages, who were now both casting healing spells on the unconscious Warden. "Can he be moved?"

"Give us a few minutes," Wynne answered, sounding slightly breathless. "Once we get the wound closed, we should be able to move him, and we can finish the healing when we get him somewhere safer."

"Okay, keep going." Alistair turned back to Ayla and the others. "Let's get something rigged so we can move him easier. Some cloaks, maybe, tied to staffs or spears."

Everyone began to look around for things that they could use; Ayla headed back over to where the broodmother lay dead, as she was fairly certain she'd seen a Hurlock wielding a spear near there. She had just reached the dead Hurlock in question, which did have a spear laying next to it, when she heard a clatter of falling rocks coming from the ledge above the broodmother's head. The creature had been in front of a rock wall with a ledge and open space above it; Ayla didn't know what lay behind, however. She drew her swords and looked up.

A familiar voice floated down from above. "That's where they come from." It was Hespith, looking sadly down at the body of the broodmother below her. She looked up and met Ayla's eyes, the dull silver clearer than she had yet seen it. "That's why they hate us . . . that's why they need us. That's why they take us . . . that's why they feed us." She looked away, towards one of the tunnels where the other darkspawn had emerged. "But the true abomination . . . is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka . . . my love . . ."

Hespith looked down at Ayla again, before turning around and taking a few steps behind her, towards the open space, as she continued to speak. "The Stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal." She looked back at Ayla once more, smiling sadly before she turned around again. Ayla suddenly realized what she was about to do.

"No! Wait!" She cried, scrambling towards the rock wall and trying to climb up, but before she could, the dwarf woman jumped and disappeared from view. A few seconds later, Ayla heard a distant and sickening thud from behind the rock wall.

She leaned her forehead against the cool rock, taking a few deep breaths, though she did her best not to breathe through her nose. The smell of the broodmother had not improved with actual death. She knew that Hespith had been as badly off as Ruck, if not worse, and there was nothing that could have been done any longer to save her. But that still didn't seem to keep her from feeling as though she should have stopped the dwarf from jumping to her death. How many more people would she see die down here?

She shook her head, ordering herself to stop dwelling on those she couldn't save. Aedan was more important right now. He could still be helped. She turned around and picked up the spear, heading back to Alistair and the others. She left the spear with him so that he could fashion a makeshift litter to carry Aedan on while she went to check on Zevran, feeling ultimately responsible for his condition.

He was still sitting where the others had left him, looking pale and exhausted, though he smiled when she approached. "Ayla, my dear, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She sat down next to him. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "I have had much worse wounds, I assure you. I will be just fine."

She smiled, shaking her head at him. "That is not what I asked."

"Ah." He grinned unapologetically. "I suppose it is not. As you wish, then; I am sore and tired, but I will live. I can move as soon as you are ready. How is our leader?"

"I think he will be all right, as well, once they are done healing him." She bumped his shoulder gently with her own. "Thank you, by the way. For saving Alistair. I – I hesitated when I saw what was going on. For a moment, I was too afraid to help." She bowed her head in shame, unable to meet Zevran's eyes.

She felt his hand on her chin; he pushed her head up gently to meet his gaze. There was no judgment in it, only understanding. "Do not be ashamed," he said quietly. "You had every right to be afraid, knowing what these darkspawn might do to you. I was afraid for you, as well. I do not want to think of such a fate befalling you, or any of the others." He indicated the broodmother behind her with a wave of his hand as he let go of her. "Besides, I am told that you saved me after I saved your Warden. There is no reason for you to feel guilty."

"Thank you." She was incredibly relieved that he did not think poorly of her after her confession. She had been afraid that the others would all think her a coward, as she now feared she was becoming. She would need to be stronger, she reminded herself. Her father had said she would face many trials, after all. She could not let herself be ruled by fear of the unnatural fates that might befall her here. She would do her best not to allow it anymore, but it was good to know that she had Zevran's support if she needed it.

She leaned over and kissed Zevran's cheek gently. He looked at her in surprise as she sat back. "Thank you, again," she said by way of explanation. "I owe you more than I can ever repay."

He shook his head. "You do not owe me anything, my dear. You are the reason I am still alive, after all. And we are friends, no?"

"We are," she agreed, nodding. "So you are going to tell me one day why you tried to die at the hands of the Wardens."

He blinked for a moment before smiling sadly. "One day, yes. Perhaps when we get back to Orzammar and I can have too much dwarven ale at that tavern."

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, before looking over to where Aedan was and seeing that Alistair and Sten were hoisting him up on the makeshift litter. "It looks like it's time for us to go."

She helped Zevran to his feet, and though he protested, she insisted on helping to support him on the way back to the hall where they would rest. It was obvious that although he could walk, he was still in pain, and she remembered how much an injury like that could hurt even after a healing spell had been performed. She also knew that Wynne hadn't fully healed it, having saved her energy for Aedan's more serious wound. So she turned a deaf ear to her elven friend's protests and helped him the whole way until they reached the room.

Once they had arrived, Alistair and Sten set Aedan down in a corner on a pile of blankets and cloaks hastily rigged up to make him more comfortable. Morrigan and Wynne went back to healing his wounds, while Alistair set up a watch schedule and Leliana and Oghren went to go scout for more potions or potion ingredients. Ayla set Zevran down in another corner to rest before she went to check on Alistair, who was putting together food from their packs to eat. Sten was standing watch with Striker at the door into the hall.

"How are you doing?" she asked him when she reached him.

He smiled up at her, though his face was lined with weariness. "I'm fine. I didn't take any major hits in the battle, luckily."

She sighed. She didn't want to confess to him what she had told Zevran, but she didn't want to keep it a secret, either, knowing that it would eat at her. So she blurted out, "About that. I – I hesitated before I went to help you, because . . . . I was scared. I'm sorry. I'm so sor–"

"Ayla, stop." He tugged on her arm, pulling her into his lap, and she went willingly, only too happy to allow them both the comfort. "I don't blame you for hesitating, or being afraid. I wouldn't even blame you if you had run. What could have happened to you is far worse than what could have happened to me. The fact that you came to help me at all is – amazing. So don't feel guilty about it. There's no need."

She looked him in the eyes, noting the absolute sincerity and belief in her that shone in them. She still didn't know what she'd done to deserve that belief, but she'd do everything she could to keep it. "That's what Zevran said, too."

"Then the assassin and I agree on something for once." He smiled when she couldn't help but laugh at that. "Don't get used to it."

"I won't." She pried herself out of his grip, though not without regret. "Why don't you go rest, let me do this? You have enough to worry about right now."

"No, I'm fine," he insisted, continuing to sort out the dried meals that passed for food lately. "I'm more hungry than tired, and we'll have time to rest before Aedan is able to go, anyway."

"Aedan will be all right, then?" she asked. She had suspected he would be, but it was a relief to have it confirmed.

He nodded, the same relief she felt reflecting in his face. "Wynne is certain of it, now, she says. She thinks he'll be up on his feet, though not quite fully back to normal, after a full day's rest. So we'll move on when he's ready, see if Branka's beyond that room."

"I think she is." Ayla told him what Hespith had said, and the way she had looked towards that tunnel, as though Branka was somewhere past there.

"Let's hope that's what it meant," Alistair replied. "That would mean we're finally close. I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

She nodded, in full agreement with him on that one. "We'll move on as soon as we can, find Branka, and get out of here. I don't want to be down here any longer than we have to."

"We won't," he promised her, his tone firm. "We are all getting out of here, together."

"Yes, we will," she agreed, determined to make it come true however she had to as she set to helping him with the evening meal.

As she did so, she did her best to convince herself he must be right. They couldn't have come this far and made it through so much to fail, after all. She wouldn't allow it, and neither would any of the others. They were leaving the Deep Roads, and they would leave them with the support they had come for. She would make sure of it, no matter what had to be done.

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Alistair got up quietly and headed over to where Zevran was keeping watch. It was the second night they had spent here in the hall, having given Aedan his day to recover, and they would be leaving shortly as soon as the others began to wake up. Ayla was still sleeping soundly, having taken the watch before Zevran, so Alistair thought now would be the best time for him to talk to the elf without her overhearing.

"Zevran," he greeted quietly as he approached the elf where he stood at the entrance to the hall.

The assassin nodded formally in return, looking faintly suspicious, which Alistair couldn't really blame him for. He'd never approached Zevran just to talk, unless it had been to warn him away from Ayla. "Alistair."

Alistair hesitated, not quite sure how to begin what he wanted to say, and after a moment of awkward silence, Zevran looked at him with raised brows. "I imagine you had a purpose in coming over here, yes?"

"Well, yes, I did," Alistair replied slowly. "I wanted to start by thanking you for what you did in the fight with the broodmother."

"You are most welcome, my Warden friend, but I did not do it for your sake." The elf glanced behind them to where the others slept, his gaze falling on Ayla, asleep where Alistair had left her. "She was coming to intervene, and I simply wanted to ensure her safety."

Alistair nodded. That was what he'd expected to hear, and the reason he'd come over to talk to Zevran in the first place. "That's why I'm grateful. You made sure nothing happened to her. I care more about her safety than I do about what might happen to me."

Zevran studied him for a moment. "Hmm. I believe you truly mean that. Perhaps you are worthy of her, after all."

"I don't know about that," Alistair answered honestly. "But I am trying to be." He still thought of her at times as a gift from the Maker, or even that Goddess of hers, though he still wasn't sure how he had gotten so lucky. That did not mean he had any intention of giving her up, however. He cleared his throat. "I . . . had a favour to ask you."

"Oh?" Zevran regarded him with open skepticism this time. "What favour might that be?"

"If something happens to me down here . . . or later, when we're fighting the Blight," Alistair began carefully, "I would like you to keep her safe. Make sure that nothing happens to her or that she doesn't . . . do something drastic."

"You would trust me with such a task?" Zevran asked quietly.

Alistair shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Look, I know we haven't exactly . . . gotten along, and I didn't trust you when you first joined. But, I know now that I can trust you with her life."

The elf nodded, answering soberly, "Indeed, you can. It would be my honour. I swear that I will keep her safe if it is within my power." He placed his hand over his heart in the formal manner he had used with Aedan when first joining the party.

"Thank you," Alistair said sincerely, feeling distinctly relieved. He did not intend to have anything happen to him, but he did feel a great deal better knowing that the elf would be looking out for Ayla if something did. "I owe you. If you need a favour in return, anything, just ask."

"Anything?" Zevran repeated, looking surprised. "What if I should ask you to kill someone for me?"

"Well, I would hope you would not entirely abuse the favour," Alistair replied dryly, "but when I said anything, I meant it. That's how much this means to me."

"Your devotion to her does you credit, my friend," Zevran murmured. "Now, perhaps you should go back to her before she wakes up and wonders what you are doing, no? She would not be happy if she knew what you have asked of me."

"No, you're right about that," Alistair agreed, smiling faintly at the thought of what she might have to say if she heard about it. "You know," he went on as he turned to leave, "you don't have to feel obligated to stay any more. Aedan wouldn't hold you to that oath any longer; you've fulfilled any debt you might have owed us. If you want to leave, we wouldn't hold it against you, but, we could use a friend who wants to help out."

"A friend?" Zevran smiled, for once a genuine smile instead of the smirk he usually directed at Alistair, before he chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I could stay as a friend. Anyway, it would be most difficult to fulfill my promise to look after her if I left now. No, I will stay and see this out."

"I appreciate it. All of it," Alistair told him. Zevran waved him off, looking almost faintly embarrassed, so Alistair went, making his way over to where the others slept. As he got closer, he saw that Aedan was up and gathering his things together, a bit slower than he might have normally, but he looked otherwise fine.

"Do you feel up to moving on?" Alistair asked as he reached him. They hadn't talked much yesterday, as he'd allowed Aedan to rest with Morrigan while he directed the others in the preparations for today. He'd only made sure that Aedan agreed with the length of the wait.

Aedan stretched and twisted experimentally, wincing, but he nodded. "Yes, I should be able to manage. Sorry for worrying all of you."

"Well, you never did punch me, so we're probably even on that score," Alistair answered, grinning. "Besides, I got the feeling that they were going after us specifically in that fight, so it couldn't really be helped."

"You're probably right," Aedan sighed, stuffing a few more things in his pack and strapping his sword on. "I'm sure we are the number one priority for the darkspawn right now, unfortunately. So let's get everyone up and move on before something else goes wrong."

Alistair nodded in agreement, and the two of them proceeded to get the rest of the party to their feet. Almost everything had been packed and made ready last night, so it only took a few moments for everyone to eat and gather their things. Once done, they left the hall and moved back to the room where they'd faced the broodmother.

Everything was as they'd left, including the corpses; no new darkspawn had appeared, though Alistair had made sure with the help of some of the others that this room stayed clear. They went to the tunnel that Ayla pointed out as being the one Hespith had indicated, and followed it through the rock walls beyond.

Oghren, who was in the lead with Alistair and Aedan, whispered as it began to get lighter up ahead, "If Branka is anywhere, this has to be it. She will not be unprepared."

"Well, let's hope she's actually here," Aedan muttered, and Alistair snorted in agreement. He'd had enough of looking everywhere for this woman.

Around the next bend, the tunnel opened out into a larger stone cavern. Alistair noted a rocky ledge on the wall across from the entrance just before the last of their party entered the room, which was followed shortly thereafter by the sound of rocks falling. They all turned quickly to look, just in time to see the rocks cover the only way back

"Oh, good, now we're trapped in here," Ayla grumbled as she came up next to him, a faint trace of worry in her eyes. Alistair took her hand, both for his sake and hers, and was about to reply when they heard the sound of a voice from the other side of the room.

"Let me blunt. After all this time, my tolerance for social graces is rather limited. I hope you understand." Standing on the ledge across from the now caved-in entrance was a dwarven woman. She was outfitted fully in heavy dwarven plate armor, with short reddish-brown hair plaited in two and, unlike Hespith, she looked perfectly healthy, although Alistair still didn't quite like the look in her eyes.

"Shave my back and call me an elf!" Oghren exclaimed as he noticed the woman. "Branka? By the Stone, I barely recognized you!"

So, they'd found Branka at last, Alistair thought, sighing with relief. He squeezed Ayla's hand and she smiled up at him, looking equally relieved. All they needed was to get her approval for Bhelen and they could finally leave. He couldn't help but notice, however, that she didn't seem pleased to find them there.

"Oghren," she sniffed disdainfully, gazing down at her husband. "It figures you'd eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily." She turned to look at Aedan, who had stepped forward to speak to her. "And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale-breath?"

"Be respectful, woman!" Oghren snapped before any of them could say anything in response. "You're talking to a Grey Warden!"

Branka raised her eyebrows, though she still looked distinctly unimpressed. "Ah, so an important errand boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side."

"Yes," Aedan replied slowly, frowning briefly before continuing, "he is dead, and Orzammar needs a new king to help us defend against a Blight."

"A king won't defeat a Blight," Branka scoffed, pacing back and forth on the ledge above them. "We've had forty generations of kings, and lost _everything_. I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne. Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting." She turned and gestured to another opening in the cave wall behind her as she went on, "The Anvil of the Void. The means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first archdemon ever to rise. It's here. So close I can taste it."

Alistair exchanged worried glances with Aedan. It sounded like Branka had lost her mind down here just as surely as anybody else they'd met, only in a different way. Aedan sighed heavily before he addressed Branka again. "So why aren't you at the Anvil of the Void? I suppose there must be some sort of catch?"

Branka dipped her head in acknowledgement. "The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself. My people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets. This is what's important," she declared passionately, throwing her arms wide. "This has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics . . . all that is transitory. I've given up everything and would sacrifice _anything_ to get the Anvil of the Void."

"Anything . . . including Hespith and all the other members of your house who were loyal to you?" Aedan asked coldly, looking vastly unimpressed with the dwarven woman.

"Enough questions!" Branka snapped, slashing her hand through the air. "If you wish me to get involved with this imbecilic election, I must first have the Anvil. There is only one way out, Wardens." She pointed at the entrance she'd been gesturing to earlier. "Forward. Through Caridin's maze and out to where the Anvil waits."

"What has this place done to you?!" Oghren exclaimed, his tone full of despair. "I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance!"

"I am your Paragon," Branka stated with cold finality, before turning and leaving through the only remaining door, leaving Alistair and the others no choice but to follow the dwarven Paragon they had come so far in search of.


	39. The Anvil of the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party makes their way through the trials set up by Caridin and finally reach the Anvil of the Void. There, they find they have to make a decision whether or not they should allow Branka to have the Anvil, and must fight another battle to achieve the help they need before they can return to Orzammar.

Chapter 39: The Anvil of the Void

They had followed Branka through to the next area, and had been made to listen to her insane ranting about how she'd forced the people of her house to try to solve the traps that lay ahead while they'd fought several groups of darkspawn in that first room. It was a vast, cavernous room full of crumbling rocks and spires and corpses, that they had been forced to fill with many more darkspawn bodies as Branka shouted from a ledge above about how her house had been promised to her and so owed her their loyalty.

By the time she'd finally shut up, Ayla had been highly tempted to jump up there and kill the dwarf woman herself. It wouldn't have been all that hard for her to do in her shifted state, and she'd actually gone to turn around and do it at one point before Alistair had grabbed her arm and pulled her back, shaking his head. It was then that she remembered they still needed Branka's support for the sake of the Blight, and she'd tried not to listen anymore, being extremely grateful that Branka had stopped talking shortly thereafter.

It was the part where she'd mentioned being willing to sacrifice the women of her house to become broodmothers in order to supply endless darkspawn to test the traps that had nearly made Ayla jump up there. She could not believe how insanely obsessed with this Anvil that Branka was. How could she even have _considered_ offering anyone she knew to become one of those abominations, let alone Hespith, the woman she'd loved? The woman was truly insane and beyond forgiveness, and she felt bad for Oghren that he'd come all this way for his wife to see her become like this.

He had ranged far on ahead of the others fighting the darkspawn, however, well out of earshot of Branka's ranting before she'd gotten to that part, as if he'd rather avoid hearing whatever it was she was saying. Ayla couldn't blame him for that, nor did she want him to know that part unless he absolutely had to. She suspected she might have been the only one who'd heard it, as none of the others had showed any reaction. She didn't bother to ask or find out if anyone had heard; no one else needed to know just how deep Branka's betrayal ran.

Shortly after Branka stopped talking, the amount of darkspawn streaming out of the narrow tunnel at the other end of the room from where the dwarf woman stood began to slow, until it stopped altogether. Alistair nodded to Aedan and he gestured all the others to continue forward into the tunnel. They passed many more corpses, of both dwarves and darkspawn, as they followed the winding tunnel along to the next area of Caridin's traps.

The next area was an entirely enclosed room of stone, a small hall about half the size of the one they'd sheltered in earlier, that began to fill up with a noxious green gas as soon as they entered. The doors had sealed as soon as the gas started, leaving them with no way out. Ayla nearly passed out from the smell of the gas, which hit her hard, so she sat on the floor by the door with her cloak pressed over her face while the others scrambled to find a way to shut the gas off.

Leliana was the first to find one of the levers that turned the gas off in only one section of the room, in an alcove off to the side, and shouted to the others to hurry and check all the alcoves in the room. As they did so, however, a stone golem came to life and lumbered forward to begin attacking them. Sten and Alistair took the golem on, keeping it distracted, while the others hurried to find the other levers. Within a few minutes, all the gas in the room was gone, but they were left with three more golems to fight in place of it.

It was only with the help of Morrigan and Wynne's weakening and freezing spells, and the strongest blows that all their party members, particularly Sten, could muster, that they were able to defeat the golems. Freezing them allowed repeated strong blows to shatter the stone golems apart, and the weakening spells kept them from crushing the party with their blows entirely. It was lucky that the golems were also incredibly slow.

Ayla had joined in the fight as soon as the air was clear enough for her to breathe again, though she had not been of much use except as a distraction, lacking the necessary strength to bust the golems apart. Still, she'd been grateful to be able to help finally, annoyed that her sense of smell, normally a strength, was almost becoming a weakness down here.

The next room, unfortunately, contained more of the stone golems. It was another stone room where they had to pass through many archways. It had not taken long for Leliana and Zevran, who were leading the group at the moment to check for traps, to see that each archway was armed with a blade trap designed to cut unwary travellers in two. The rogues had no trouble disarming them, but doing so caused two stone golems to awaken for each archway.

They took care of these golems in the same way as they had in the other room, and after four such traps, finally reached the other side. They continued on into the next area, which was just a cavern rather than the stone halls the other rooms had been, discovering a four-faced statue surrounded by anvils in the center of it.

The statue came to life as soon as they approached it, and began rotating, releasing shades all around them. They soon discovered, however, that defeating the shades caused the anvils to glow with energy, and once those anvils were struck, the released energy rebounded at the statue, causing damage. They continued with this pattern several times, some of the party keeping the statue busy, the others defeating the shades until the anvils could be struck, until the statue finally collapsed.

Fortunately, no one in the party had been badly hurt beyond the ability of the two mages to heal, and there was raw lyrium directly in that cavern that allowed them both to keep themselves at full power. Once the statue was defeated, Aedan insisted on pressing on, though they were all growing weary.

"Let's hope this final area is it," Aedan declared as they made their way through the opening at the other side of the cavern across from the statue. "If we can find the Anvil, we should be able to convince Branka to lend us her support, and we can finally go back to Orzammar."

"Are you sure letting her have this Anvil is such a good idea?" Ayla asked him quietly. "You heard how insanely obsessed with it she is."

Aedan sighed and shook his head, exchanging a grim look with Alistair, who shrugged hopelessly. "I know," he murmured to her, glancing back to make sure Oghren couldn't overhear, "but we have no choice. She's the Paragon, and we need her to agree to put Bhelen on the throne. We can only hope that once she sees the Anvil, she recovers some of her reason, or we can convince her to leave it behind."

Ayla wasn't so sure it would be that easy, but she knew that there was really no way around it. "I hope you're right," she replied as they came around a final turn in the tunnel and into a cavern, more immense than any they'd been in so far.

It was vast, the roof almost as high overhead as it was in the city of Orzammar, and flowing magma cascaded down the walls across from them and around them. The place looked as though it had been part of a large hall once, the door through which they entered surrounded by pillars. The ground leading from the entrance appeared to end in a cliff of sorts, and was surrounded on all sides by the flowing magma, which seemed to create a sort of river down below. The main area of the rocky ground they were on was largely circular, but narrowed out to a path into which steps were carved, that led high up to a peak, on top of which Ayla could see an immense anvil, split by glowing blue cracks. Lyrium springs were everywhere in the room, and veins of glowing lyrium ran through the walls around them.

They were flanked on both sides by a line of unmoving stone golems as they entered, and at the end of the lines of stone golems, stood one bigger than any of the others. This one almost appeared to be made of stone overlaid with metal, with huge shoulder plates that rose higher than its head. Just as Ayla was wondering if the freezing trick would work on this golem as it had the others, it spoke, something none of the other golems had ever done.

In a hollow, metallic sounding voice, the golem boomed, startling them all so that they jumped back, "My name is Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to think, I was a Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar. If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story, or be doomed to relive it."

They all stared at the golem in astonishment, taken aback. "It can speak?" Ayla muttered in disbelief to Alistair. "How?"

He shrugged, looking as startled as she felt. "I have no idea. I don't know how those golems even move in the first place, let alone how one can talk."

Aedan stepped forward, past Oghren who was staring at the golem in open-mouthed disbelief, and asked, "You are truly Caridin? As in the smith Caridin, who made the Anvil of the Void?" He gestured to the glowing anvil on the cliff above, which could only be the anvil Branka had been so desperately looking for.

The golem moved its metal head in a jerky nod in response to Aedan's question. "Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item: the Anvil of the Void. It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost."

_The cost?_ Ayla wondered, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach again. She knew, better than most, that no power came without a price, without limitations. What sort of cost was involved with these golems?

"No mere smith, however skilled," Caridin was continuing, "has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere."

_Oh no_. It was even worse than Ayla had expected; she exchanged a horrified look with Alistair. They had taken people's lives, their souls, to make those golems move? How could they have _done_ such a thing?

"It sounds like a terrible price to pay," Aedan replied grimly, his attention fixed on Caridin as the rest of the group watched in horrified fascination. "Was it worth it?"

"So said my king. I had only intended to use volunteers, but he was not satisfied . . ." The golem that was Caridin shook its head in regret and went on, "and soon a river of blood flowed out of this place. Finally, it was too much. I refused. And so Valtor had me put on the Anvil, next."

"Well, that explains how a Paragon became a golem, I suppose." Aedan tilted his head, looking at Caridin thoughtfully. "What do you want now? Do you want revenge?"

"Not revenge," the golem answered heavily. "The blow of the hammer opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind. We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it."

Before Aedan or any of them could reply to what was obviously a request to destroy the Anvil, which Ayla did really think would be the best thing, after hearing what it could do, Branka came racing through the door behind them, having finally caught up to them. "No!" She screamed wildly, skidding to a halt a few feet away. "The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!"

"You!" Caridin cried as soon as he saw her. He turned his attention back to Aedan, begging, "Please . . . help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!"

Aedan hesitated, clearly torn. "But . . . we need it to bargain with Branka for the king. We need the support of a Paragon . . ."

"Isn't he a Paragon?" Alistair pointed out in a low voice, gesturing to Caridin.

Aedan nodded, his expression clearing as he obviously saw a way out. He turned back to the golem. "Yes, if you agree to support a new king, we can help you."

"Don't listen!" Branka snarled. "He's been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness."

"As if you aren't stewing in madness over the Anvil yourself?" Ayla snapped, furious with the dwarven woman. First, she wanted to sacrifice her own people to the darkspawn for this thing, and she still wanted to use it, despite knowing that it required the souls of living people? She was far more insane than anyone else they'd encountered down here, and Ayla was not about to let her have something so dangerous and powerful. She was glad that neither Aedan nor Alistair seemed inclined to side with her.

The dwarven woman completely ignored Ayla's comment, fixed only on Aedan as she said, "Help me claim the Anvil, and you will have an army like you've never seen!"

"Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail." Oghren's voice was wavering between anger and despair as he looked at his wife. "Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?"

"Look around." Branka gestured to the pillars and the rocks surrounding them. "Is this what our empire should look like? A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory!"

Aedan stepped towards her, shaking his head as he stated firmly, "I will not let you use it. The Anvil enslaves living souls! It must be destroyed."

Most of the party members looked as though they were in agreement with Aedan, but Zevran was frowning as he said, "Living souls suffer all the time. Peasants working the land are trapped, but we do not go about destroying farmland, do we? It just seems a waste to destroy the Anvil, given what it could do."

"The elf is right," Morrigan declared. "This anvil has great potential. It is a marvel, a tool of creation!"

"Morrigan, Zev –" Aedan was shaking his head in disappointment, interrupting Morrigan before she was even finished, but he seemed to be at a loss as to how he should reply.

Ayla could see where they were coming from. She knew both her friends well enough to know they weren't suggesting its use maliciously, but out of a sense of practicality, seeing the power it could provide in the battle that they faced. "I would be inclined to agree with the two of you," she began softly, holding up a hand to forestall any interruption as Alistair and the others turned to look at her in horror or surprise, and the other two began to smile. "But, that would only be if we could guarantee that only those who volunteered would be turned into golems. And I believe that it would not be long before someone would begin to force unwilling people into using it. I chose to become a shifter and take all the consequences that would come with the extra power, but I would not want anyone unwilling to be forced into becoming one. And I can still be myself, most of the time. Golems can never be anything else. Would either of you wished to be forced into becoming a golem, if that Anvil fell into the wrong hands?"

Alistair was smiling by the time she finished, looking at her with such pride she felt embarrassed, while most of the others were nodding in agreement, though Sten looked as impassive as ever. Zevran and Morrigan looked to be seriously considering what she had said.

Zevran finally smiled at her and nodded. "Well, my dear, you make a convincing argument. Perhaps destroying it is a good idea."

Aedan looked over at the witch. "She's right, Morrigan. I would not want to see the Anvil fall into the hands of someone who cared only for power, to have them force people into becoming golems, as Caridin was."

Morrigan sighed, waving her hand at him. "Fine, destroy it if it pleases you. I will not object."

Ayla beamed at Morrigan, who rolled her eyes in response, though Ayla could see the corners of her mouth twitch slightly. Morrigan, she believed, was beginning to realize that power was not the only thing to rely on.

Caridin, meanwhile, had bowed as much as his metal body would allow to Aedan, booming out, "Thank you, stranger. Your compassion shames me."

Ayla turned her attention to Branka, wondering how she would take this decision to destroy the Anvil, and noticed the narrowing of Branka's eyes in anger before she shouted, "Bah! You are not the only master smith here, Caridin! Golems, obey me! Attack!" As she spoke, she held up a slender, white stick above her head.

"A control rod!" Caridin cried out, glancing around as the golems on either side of the entrance begin to stir to life. "But . . . my friends, you must help me! I cannot stop her alone!"

"We will help you," Aedan stated firmly. "We cannot let her use the Anvil as she wishes." Everyone nodded in agreement as they armed themselves. Aedan turned to look at Oghren. "If you can't help us, I'll understand."

Oghren shook his head, pulling his axe off his back. "Can't be helped; she's the one attacking. I'll help with them golems, anyway."

With that, the party leapt into action. Ayla went for Branka, knowing from the previous battles with golems that her own skills would be of little use against the stone golems swarming towards them. Branka was mere flesh and blood; she could deal with that, and spare Oghren the pain of having to strike down his wife. She caught the swing of Branka's axe on one sword, and spun out of the way of her shield as Branka tried to knock her down with it.

The others were trying to deal with the half-dozen golems that had been brought to life by Branka, trying to freeze and shatter them as they had done with the others. Fortunately, they had Caridin to help distract and fight the large number of golems, or it would have been a good deal more difficult, if not impossible. He took down one golem himself almost instantly, causing Branka to snarl with rage.

Branka was a better fighter than Ayla had expected; they traded blows rapidly, and she wasn't succeeding at getting through as often as she would have liked. Not to mention, Branka wore heavy armor, so glancing blows from her swords were ineffective. Ayla had thought that Branka was mainly a smith, and so would be a relatively easy target, but she was being proven wrong, and worse yet, Branka was stronger than she was.

Ayla was still faster, she knew; there was no question of that. It was for that reason alone that Branka had not yet been able to overwhelm her. But all of her speed and skill wasn't much help when there was no open target for her to strike. Finally, in her desperation to get in a straightforward blow that would allow her to pierce armor, she miscalculated, and Branka's shield caught her full in the chest, sending her flying backwards.

Ayla landed on the rocky ground with a thud, coughing, trying to get air back in her lungs; the blow had knocked her breathless. She was also trying to force her uncooperative limbs into allowing her to rise, but it wasn't working. And Branka was stalking towards her, eyes burning with madness and anger. _Get up!_ She snarled at herself, but she could barely breathe, much less force herself to stand.

Branka was only a few feet away when Oghren suddenly stepped in between them, holding his greataxe defensively across his chest. "Don't make me do this, woman."

Branka had halted for a second, but she sneered in reply to his words. "You chose to side against me. You don't see the importance of what I'm doing for our people! Why should I care what you have to say now?"

She started forward, her shield shifting into place and her axe raised for the attack. Oghren didn't look as though he was moving to defend himself, and Ayla finally sucked enough air into her starved lungs to force her limbs to obey. She was scrambling to her feet when an arrow thudded into Branka's back.

She groaned and stumbled forward a couple of steps before turning to look. Leliana was behind her, though several feet away, and sent two more arrows in quick succession at the dwarven woman, her face set in grim lines. They struck home with deadly accuracy, one in her chest before she had time to bring her shield into place, one into her forehead, and Branka fell backwards, lifeless, her axe and shield falling to the ground around her.

Ayla watched as Oghren dropped his own axe, racing to Branka's side and kneeling next to her, his face wracked with grief. She looked away, wanting to give him his privacy, and walked past him with her eyes averted. The battle was nearly done; Sten succeeded in delivering a final crushing blow to a stone golem, shattering it as she approached them, while Caridin wrenched off the head of the only other remaining golem, bashing it to bits with its own head.

Ayla noted with relief that the party seemed relatively uninjured; Morrigan and Wynne were moving among the party, healing some minor cuts and bruises, but other than that, everyone looked well. Ayla's own chest was aching from the blow she'd received, but not badly enough that she felt it worth healing. Alistair's armor looked dented in some places, and he was holding his side where said armor was slightly caved in, meaning he probably had some cracked or broken ribs, but he smiled with relief when she came over to him. Wynne was just moving to heal him as she did so.

"Branka?" Aedan asked as she stopped in front of the others.

She gestured behind her to where she had left Oghren with Branka. "Dead, unfortunately. Leliana's arrows dealt the finishing blow."

"I did not wish to," Leliana said regretfully as she came up next to Ayla, having followed her over to the others, "but she was about to attack Oghren, and I was not sure he would fight back."

"Another life lost because of my invention," Caridin said heavily, having overheard their discussion. "I wish no mention of it had made it into history."

"Yeah, you ain't kidding." Oghren's voice came suddenly from behind Ayla, causing her to turn and look; he'd left Branka's body behind and rejoined them, looking more angry than grieved now. He shook his head. "Stupid woman! Always knew the Anvil would kill her."

Aedan sighed, looking at their dwarven companion with regret. "I was hoping we could get her to see reason, but it seems she wasn't willing to listen."

"But at least it ends here. I thank you for standing with me, stranger." Caridin gave Aedan another formal, odd half-bow. He then gestured to the anvil on the top of the cliff, behind them to the right. "The Anvil waits there for you to shatter it."

"Is there any boon I can grant you for your aid?" Caridin continued, looking around at them all. "A final favour before I am freed from my burden?"

Aedan turned to their dwarven friend. "Oghren? You lost more than any of us because of the Anvil. Is there anything that you would want?"

Oghren looked surprised that Aedan had deferred to him. He stared at Caridin thoughtfully. "Huh. Don't suppose you can bring Branka back? Maybe make her a golem, like you?"

Ayla felt terrible for the dwarf; he had come on this journey hoping to save his wife, only to lose her to her own madness. She couldn't even imagine what that would be like, to lose someone you loved in such a manner. As if thinking the same thing, Alistair came and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to his side, and she leaned her head against his armored chest.

"I would not do such a thing to her, even if I could," Caridin answered soberly.

"Somehow I didn't think so," Oghren replied sadly. "Then I don't want anything that would remind me of . . . this. Best it's just done." He looked thoughtfully at both Alistair and Aedan. "There . . . is still the matter of the election. I mean . . . we still need a Paragon to get the Assembly's support, right?"

The Wardens both nodded in response, looking hopefully at Caridin, who answered, "For the aid you've given me, I shall put hammer to steel one last time, and give you a crown for the king of your choice."

The golem lumbered over to the set of stairs cut into the rock path that led up to the anvil, and picking up his hammer and some materials, began to work on creating a crown.

"While he's doing that, we should take a bit of time to rest," Aedan suggested, pulling out his pack. "Have something to eat, recover our strength so we can start heading back to Orzammar."

Everyone agreed, and they all sat down where they were and began to pull open their own packs, distributing the bits of bread, cheese and dried meat they had, and drinking from their canteens. Morrigan and Wynne went around finishing their last bits of healing before sitting down to eat as well.

"Thank you," Alistair said to Oghren as they ate. He was sitting only a few feet away from where Ayla sat with Alistair. "For asking Caridin to help with our cause."

"Well," Oghren shrugged, tearing off a strip of dried meat, "you Wardens did come all this way. Seemed like the thing to do. You held up your end of the deal."

"But . . ." Alistair looked confused as he regarded the dwarf. "Branka – I mean . . ."

"Died?" Oghren snorted, trying to look as though he was unaffected, and succeeding for the most part, though Ayla could see a bit of grief shining deep in his eyes. "Yeah, well, that was her own fault, with her mad crusade for that Anvil. You only promised to help me find her. You didn't say anything about not fighting back if she attacked you. No, you did what you promised. And you came all this way for a Paragon's help for the Blight. Didn't seem right to let you all go away empty-handed."

"Well, thank you, again," Alistair replied finally. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes," Ayla agreed softly. "Thank you for stepping in and . . . protecting me. I was in trouble for a moment there."

Alistair looked at her in sudden alarm. "You were? I didn't . . ."

She shook her head at him, silencing him as Oghren shrugged, waving his hand. "Wasn't nothing. She'd already done enough damage. Couldn't let her do anymore. And anyway, I promised your Warden there." He jerked his head at Alistair, before standing up abruptly. "'Scuse me. Got something to take care of." He stalked away, back towards Branka, drinking from his flask as he went.

"Maker." Alistair was shaking his head, watching the dwarf as he walked away. "I can't imagine what he's going through. Are you sure you're all right?" He looked down at Ayla, his eyes bright with concern as he searched her face, touching her cheek gently.

She smiled fondly at him, placing her hand over his. "I'm fine. She knocked the wind out of me, is all. Oghren stepped in before she could do anything else. You know, maybe we should see if he wants to come along. I don't think he has anywhere to go, anymore, and he _was_ a big help."

Alistair nodded thoughtfully, letting go of her and turning back to his food. "Yeah, I'll talk to Aedan about it later. See what he thinks."

It took some time for Caridin to complete the crown; Ayla fell asleep while they were waiting, and it was only when she felt the ground starting to shake from the golem's approach that she jerked awake. She'd been sleeping with her head in Alistair's lap; judging by his startled and sleepy look when she sat up suddenly, he'd fallen asleep sitting up with his head back against the rock behind him. Some of the others looked like they'd been asleep as well, scrambling to their feet as Caridin approached, though Sten was already on his feet and looked as though he'd been standing watch.

Aedan came forward to meet Caridin, gingerly taking the large, elaborate, golden and red crown from the golem's hands. "There, it is done," Caridin said solemnly. "Give it to whom you will. I do not wish to hear their names, nor anything more of them. I have already lived far beyond my time. I have no place here."

Aedan bowed formally to him. "Thank you for your help. I will destroy the Anvil, as agreed."

"That would please me, human," Caridin replied.

Aedan handed the crown to Alistair, who carefully wrapped it in his cloak and stored it in his pack, before heading towards the stairs leading up to the Anvil. Ayla and the others stayed where they were, watching along with Caridin as Aedan walked up to the Anvil. He picked up the hammer Caridin had left behind, and lifting it above his head, swung it down with a mighty blow, cracking the Anvil. Two more swings, and it shattered into several pieces, chunks and shards flying everywhere.

He dropped the hammer where the Anvil had been, and as he came back down the stairs, Caridin walked to the edge of the cliff at the base of the stairs. Ayla had a feeling she knew what the golem was going to do, and she couldn't blame him for it. He wanted an end to his torment, as the werewolves had, but the only end for him was permanent.

Aedan stopped next to Caridin when he reached him, and Ayla could hear the golem say to him, "You have my eternal thanks, stranger. Atrast nal tunsha . . . may you always find your way in the dark."

Before Aedan could reply, the golem flung himself over the edge of the cliff, into the river of flowing lava below. Ayla could hear the faint splash as he hit it. Aedan made his way back over to the group, looking grim and exhausted.

As he reached them, Oghren commented, "Well, that pretty much beat the sod out of how I imagined it. You ready to head back yet and share the news?"

Aedan nodded. "More than ready, and I hope it is a long time before I ever have to be down here again." Alistair gave a soft snort of agreement from next to Ayla as Aedan continued, "Let's get back to the Assembly as soon as possible."

Oghren shrugged carelessly. "Eh. Those deshyrs have been trying to destroy the city for years. Haven't managed yet."

"All the same, I think I'd like to get back to Orzammar as soon as we can," Aedan replied wryly. "Let's get going, everyone," he added, turning to the other party members. "We can at least make it as far as that hall again and rest there before moving on."

Everyone nodded in agreement, Ayla especially. Now that they'd finally accomplished what they'd come down here to do in the first place, she wanted to leave as soon as possible. From the looks on everyone's faces, they were all more than eager to get back to Orzammar.

They all made their way towards the entrance, Aedan and Oghren in the lead, and Ayla trailed behind a little with Alistair. "So, did Wynne say whether or not you're going to live?" she asked him teasingly, poking at the dented armor on his left side.

"Oh, well, she expects so," he replied, grinning at her before winking. "I might need some tender nursing care later, though."

She laughed softly. "Is that so? Well, that might have to wait until we get back to Orzammar, where we can have a little more privacy, and I can tend to you . . . _properly_."

"Properly, huh?" His voice was a husky rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "I'm going to expect some very _proper_ and _thorough_ care when we get back to that inn, then, my lady." Heat blazed in his eyes as he looked down at her, firing her blood in response.

She smiled, sending him a heated look of promise in return. "Do not worry, good ser, I swear you will be well taken care of."

"Maker," he growled. "We can't get back to Orzammar fast enough." She laughed in response, and he grinned at her before continuing in a more sober tone, "Seriously, though, I am glad that we all got through this okay. I was really afraid, for a while there . . ."

"Me too," she agreed softly, knowing what he meant. She had been afraid they would never make it out of these Deep Roads alive, but seemingly against all odds, they'd managed to succeed, and she was more than grateful for it. "But we managed to all get through it, together."

He nodded. "We did, and that means we'll get that last treaty fulfilled." He took her hand in his as they walked, stating firmly, "I promise you, we will get through this Blight together, too. I swear it."

"I believe you," she replied, squeezing his hand. Looking at the fierce determination shining out of his eyes, she realized that she really did. She couldn't help but believe him, and she was truly beginning to believe that they might have a future together after this Blight was over. She would do everything she could to make sure that came true.


	40. Crowns and Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party finally makes it back to Orzammar, where Aedan, Alistair and Oghren head to the Assembly to grant the crown to Prince Bhelen and gain their troops. Back at the tavern, Zevran finally reveals the reason why he accepted the job to go after the Wardens to Ayla over drinks. Alistair and the others return to the tavern later, and Ayla and Alistair eventually retire to their room to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is smut in this one again; if you don't wish to read it, just stop reading when Alistair and Ayla head up to their room.

Chapter 40: Crowns and Celebrations

It had taken them a little over two weeks of hard-pressed travel to make it back to Orzammar. They had stopped as briefly as they could at nights to rest while still being alert enough to keep going, as no one had wanted to spend any more time down there than they had to. Fortunately, there had been less darkspawn on the way back, and with both knowing where they were going and not having to search for clues, they had been able to make much better time on the return journey.

Nonetheless, Alistair was beyond relieved when they entered Orzammar late one afternoon, weary, battered, and hungry from weeks of travel. He was so relieved, in fact, that he scooped Ayla up and swung her around, whooping, "We made it!"

"Alistair, what are you doing?" she asked, laughing, her eyes shining up at him. Most of the others had turned to look back at them, eyebrows raised, some smiling in amusement.

"Celebrating," he declared, setting her down on her feet before kissing her full on the mouth in view of everyone, too relieved to care what they thought.

"Celebrating does sound like a good idea," Aedan said, causing Alistair to raise his head and turn to look at him, "but some of the celebrating you might want to keep to yourself for later," he added, smirking knowingly at Alistair.

"Oh, I'm done for now," Alistair assured him, winking at Ayla, who shook her head at him, though she was smiling.

"Good," Aedan replied, "because we should really head to the Assembly first before we do anything else, and let them know what we found. However, it's probably only necessary that Alistair and I go. The rest of you could head back to the inn and get rooms for the night, and we will join you as soon as we're done."

"It might be a good idea if Oghren came along too," Alistair suggested, looking over at the dwarf, "if he's willing. They might want to hear from one of their own, not just us."

"That's not a bad idea," Aedan agreed, nodding. "What do you say, Oghren?"

The dwarf in question had just pulled out his flask to take a drink, and discovering that it was empty, shook it upside down before scowling at it and putting it away. Alistair was frankly curious that the flask had only just run empty now; he had no idea where the dwarf had been producing the alcohol from over the past several weeks. "Yeah," Oghren said at last, "probably best if I come with you. Those deshyrs might find it all a little hard to believe coming from humans. Let's get a move on, then. I'll be needing that Tapsters ale before long."

"Okay." Aedan turned to the others. "The three of us will head for the Diamond Quarter to get this finished with. The rest of you can head to Tapsters or wherever else you'd like to go, and we'll see you there in short order, I hope."

The others nodded and began filing away, heading off through the streets of the Commons towards the tavern. Ayla smiled at Alistair before she left. "Do hurry up, I have some celebrating I'd like to do with you," she whispered to him before turning away and following the others.

He groaned inwardly, watching the sway of her hips as she walked away before Aedan whacked him on the back. "Pay attention, Alistair, would you?" Aedan was grinning in spite of what he'd said when Alistair turned to scowl at him. "Let's get going."

"All right, all right," Alistair sighed, following Aedan as he and Oghren made their way towards the door leading up to the Diamond Quarter.

As they made their way through the finely crafted streets of the Diamond Quarter, they found out from the dwarves wandering around that the Assembly was still in session arguing over the selection of a King. And, fortunately enough, it sounded as though both Bhelen and Harrowmont were present.

"So, we are still backing Bhelen, then?" Alistair asked Aedan quietly as he went. "Caridin did say to give it to whomever we wanted."

Aedan frowned, shaking his head. "I don't like the man any more than you do, but I don't need to like him. I do still think that he's the best choice, whatever my opinion of his personality. What he wants to do for the dwarves – the increase in trade with the surface and the loosening of caste restrictions – I do think it's what they need. And I think he has the necessary resolve to make the hard decisions."

"I agree," Oghren grunted from Aedan's other side. "Bhelen's a wily bastard, it's true, but he's an effective one. And Harrowmont? He doesn't have the stones for the job. If you Wardens are backing Bhelen, I'm behind you."

Alistair frowned, but he nodded. If this was what everyone thought was necessary, then he'd agree, whether he liked it or not. "Bhelen it is, then."

They entered the front doors of the Assembly, hearing the distant rumble of arguing coming from the next set of doors as they made their way down the hallway. The guards, recognizing them as they came, nodded and opened the doors, allowing them to pass into the room beyond. The noise of numerous dwarves arguing was almost overwhelming as they passed through the doors, seeing the Steward standing at the base of a set of stairs just below the empty throne.

"Lords of the Assembly, I call for order!" the Steward shouted just as they entered. "This argument gets us nowhere!"

Bhelen, standing on one side of the empty throne above the Steward, demanded, "Then why these delaying tactics? I call for a vote right now. My father has one living child to assume the Aeducan throne. Who would deny him that?"

An older, grey-bearded dwarf dressed in fine silks, whom Alistair assumed to be Harrowmont, standing on the other side of the empty throne, retorted, "Your father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him."

An armored dwarf who had seen them enter, gestured for them to stand back for the moment while he stepped ahead into the center of the assembled dwarves. "I apologize for the interruption, Lord Steward, but the Wardens have returned."

The other dwarves, who had quieted down when the Steward spoke, began to talk among themselves again as the dwarf stood aside, allowing Aedan, Alistair, and Oghren to pass. Alistair stopped in the center of the room with Oghren, letting Aedan go a few paces ahead of them to stand in front of the stairs where the Steward was.

"Well, Warden? What news do you bring?" Bhelen asked, a gleam in his eyes as he regarded Aedan.

Aedan bowed formally to the assembly before replying, "Lords and Ladies of the Assembly, we bring a crown forged by Caridin on the Anvil of the Void."

Alistair quickly moved to get the crown out of his pack where he'd kept it all this time as they travelled, while Oghren spoke up before anyone else could, "Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem. These two Wardens granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void. Before he died, Caridin forged a crown for Orzammar's next king, chosen by the ancestors themselves!"

Harrowmont stepped forward, shaking his head. "I would like to believe Oghren's word, but it's well-known the Wardens are Bhelen's hirelings!"

Alistair, meanwhile, had unwrapped the crown and presented it to the Steward for him to view properly himself. The Steward had carefully studied it while Oghren and Harrowmont spoke, and now called out, "Silence! This crown _is_ of Paragon make and bears House Ortan's ancient seal." He tapped a small section of the crown for emphasis before turning back to Aedan and Alistair, who had stepped back now that he'd handed the crown over. "Tell us, Wardens: whom did Caridin choose?"

Alistair exchanged a look with Aedan, nodding to let him know he'd back whatever he said. "Caridin requested that we give it to whomever we chose," Aedan replied carefully.

"Why would a Paragon trust someone who knows nothing of us with such a decision?" Harrowmont demanded incredulously. "This is preposterous!"

"We've argued in these chambers for too long," the Steward snapped in response. "The will of the Paragon is that the Grey Wardens decide."

"We grant the crown to Bhelen," Aedan stated simply.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd of dwarves around them at the decision as Bhelen smiled in triumph. "At last," he declared as he made his way down the steps, the Steward having stepped to the side to allow him to descend. "This farce is ended and I can take my rightful place on my father's throne."

As he descended the stairs, Aedan, Alistair and Oghren moved off to the side to allow the assembled dwarves to gather around in a loose circle, beating their white staves on the ground as the Steward moved to the center of the room. Bhelen came and knelt on one knee in front of the Steward, who placed the elaborate crown he still held on top of the other dwarf's head.

"Let the Memories find you worthy," the Steward declared with grave formality, as the beating staves sped up, "first amidst the lords of the houses, the king of Orzammar."

Bhelen got to his feet, crown perched atop his head, and turned to face the other dwarves before looking specifically to Harrowmont on the stairs behind him. "Do you acknowledge me as king?" he demanded.

"I . . . cannot defy a Paragon," the older dwarf replied sadly, shaking his head before slowly going down on one knee. "The throne is yours . . . King Bhelen."

"Then as my first act as king," Bhelen called loudly as he looked around at the assembled dwarves, "I call for this man's execution!" He pointed at Harrowmont, declaring, "Guards, seize him!"

Two of the armed dwarven guards gathered moved to seize Harrowmont as instructed, while Alistair scowled. He had suspected something like this, which is why he had been reluctant to back Bhelen in the first place. Yet what could they truly do, now that they had thrown their support behind Bhelen? They had no right to interfere anymore.

Aedan, however, went to Bhelen's side, stating quietly, "Harrowmont was an honourable rival. Why not let him retire in peace?"

Bhelen shook his head, his face set in hard lines. "You know better than anyone the war facing us, Warden. Orzammar cannot afford to be divided. Anyone undermining my reign is serving only the darkspawn."

Aedan sighed, nodding as Alistair and Oghren joined him. "Likely you are right. You must guard against any further bids for power from him; I understand."

Bhelen nodded in satisfaction. "I will return immediately to my palace to gather my generals and prepare our forces for the surface. If you will join me there, I will officially pledge our support to you, Wardens. You have my gratitude for all you have done for me."

He turned and left the Assembly, some of his guards and supporters following him, and Aedan gestured to Alistair and Oghren. "Come on, we'd best follow him back to his palace and get his official support before we retire for the night."

"Was that really necessary?" Alistair asked quietly as the two guards dragged Harrowmont past them as they were leaving the Assembly.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but Bhelen did actually have a point," Aedan murmured as they made their way over to the palace behind a stream of dwarves. "With the way the dwarves were divided over this, if he were to leave Harrowmont alive, the chances are good that he could attempt a coup later and try to seize the throne back. It was a ruthless measure, but probably the correct one to ensure that his hold over the throne was unshakable. Anyway, there's nothing more we can do about it now. Let's get the troops we were promised and get out of here."

Alistair nodded in agreement; the sooner they got out of Orzammar and away from the Deep Roads, the happier he'd be. They reached the palace shortly, and found Bhelen taking his seat on the stone throne in an immense room in the center of the palace. A stream of dwarven nobles was lining up to meet him and curry favour with the new king, but Bhelen waved to his guards to have them brought forward.

The three of them made their way to the front of the line, where Bhelen greeted them with a nod. "You have proven yourselves and more, Wardens," he declared. "Without your aid, I would not have taken this throne so smoothly or so soon."

Aedan swept the dwarven king a formal bow. "Congratulations on your ascension to the throne, King Bhelen. Now, I do believe you had promised us the aid of some troops in return . . . ?"

Bhelen nodded in response. "My generals are already preparing for a mission to the surface. When you have need of us, you shall have every able-bodied dwarf in Orzammar." He glanced at the line of nobles behind them. "Now, I have much to do. If there is nothing else . . ."

"There is nothing, thank you," Aedan replied. "We will return to the surface shortly once we have rested fully. Thank you for your aid."

"Good luck, Wardens. May we both crush our enemies," the King responded.

Aedan led them back out of the palace, leaving the new dwarven King with his line-up of nobles, and they began to head back to Tapsters.

"Thank the Maker that's finally over," Alistair grumbled, once he was sure there weren't any dwarves in earshot.

Aedan snorted. "Truly, that had to be the most difficult treaty of all to fulfill. Even worse than going through the Fade, I think."

"Well, what are you Wardens going to do now?" Oghren demanded. "Head straight for the darkspawn?"

"Well, not exactly," Alistair sighed, looking over at Aedan. "First we have one more throne to settle."

"Yes, we'll have to head back to Redcliffe and let Arl Eamon know that it is time to call the Landsmeet," Aedan agreed, sounding no more enthusiastic than Alistair. "Then we will finally confront Loghain over all he's done before we face the darkspawn. What about you, Oghren?" He turned to look at the dwarf.

Oghren shrugged. "Sod if I know. There's nothing bloody left here in Orzammar for me now."

"Why not come with us?" Alistair offered, remembering his previous conversation with Ayla. "You were a great help down in the Deep Roads, and we could use more help in fighting the Blight."

Aedan looked briefly surprised; Alistair hadn't really had a chance to talk to him about it as planned, but he nodded when Oghren turned to look at him. "Yes, you're more than welcome to join us. We could certainly use a warrior of your experience."

"Huh," the dwarf stated thoughtfully. "I ain't never been to the surface, and this lot'd disown me if I went. But they don't even let me carry 'round my weapon or fight no more, anyway. If you Wardens'll let me drink and fight as I please, I'll come. Just point me at what you want dead."

"Absolutely," Aedan responded. "If you're willing to fight darkspawn and follow our orders, whatever else you do is your business."

"Sounds like a sodding good deal to me!" Oghren exclaimed. "Let's go drink on it, Wardens!"

Alistair couldn't help but laugh; he didn't think the dwarf really needed the excuse as a reason to drink. "Welcome aboard, Oghren. Let's go celebrate."

"Oh, aye," the dwarf snickered, waggling his eyebrows at him. "You've got yourself some celebrating to do, don't you? Forging the moaning statue? Bucking the forbidden horse? Donning the velvet –"

"Are you just making these up right now?" Alistair demanded incredulously, feeling his face turning a bright shade of red as Aedan laughed so hard he had to stop and hold himself up against a wall.

"Nope. Been saving 'em," the dwarf replied proudly. He turned to Aedan. "And don't think I don't know you'll be doing the same thing with your witch, boss."

Finally gaining control of himself, Aedan took a breath, coughed, and grinned, shrugging. "Well, it is a celebration, right? But I'll likely have a few drinks first. Never had dwarven ale."

"Eh." The dwarf shrugged. "Don't know if you're missing much, but it'll do what it's supposed to. Come on, boy, let's go!" He whacked Alistair in the side for emphasis before heading for the Commons.

Alistair shrugged and followed after them. He had to admit, he _was_ looking forward to spending time alone with Ayla later, odd innuendos aside. He felt that they'd more than earned it.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, my dear, is it time to drink too much of that dwarven ale?" Zevran asked.

They'd made it back to Tapster's and obtained rooms for the night, as well as baths and the offers of actual fresh food for the first time in weeks. Ayla had taken a good soak in a hot bath, only too happy to scrub off the weeks of grime from travelling in the Deep Roads, before she'd changed into her green tunic and brown leggings to join the others down in the tavern for supper.

She'd found Zevran already at a table eating, having obviously bathed and changed as well. Leliana, looking similarly refreshed, was up on the dais happily singing and playing her instrument with a couple of dwarves, who were much more sober than the last ones they'd seen singing here. Zevran explained that Sten, Wynne, and Morrigan had retired to their respective rooms after eating, opting to rest rather than drink. Ayla suspected Morrigan was actually just waiting for Aedan to return, but preferred to do so away from a crowd. The witch often preferred being alone rather than being surrounded by others.

"Why not?" Ayla replied, smiling at the elf before signalling to the barmaid for more food and some ale. She suspected she had some time before Alistair and the others returned, so she might as well spend it drinking with Zevran. It would keep her busy until she could get Alistair alone again. "Besides, I believe you owe me a story."

"Ah." The broad smile that had graced the elf's face when she agreed faded and dimmed at the mention of what he had promised to tell her. "Do you truly wish to hear it? It is . . . not a pleasant story."

"I do," she said softly, accepting the food and drink the barmaid brought over to her before continuing, "I think it will help you to talk about it. And afterwards, we can tell each other much more pleasant stories."

The elf nodded slowly, finally replying, "Yes, I suppose it is time. You have been a good friend to me, after all. There is no reason to be silent." He took a deep breath, hesitating. She nodded in encouragement.

"As you had suspected, there is a reason that I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows," Zevran began carefully. "Meeting you and the others, after all, was quite an accident. My last mission before this one . . . did not end well."

"I didn't think so," she murmured, knowing that something drastic had to have happened to shake the elf's confidence so, "but keep going, Zev. Get it all out."

He nodded, going on, "You must realize that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often . . . both as an assassin and a lover."

He paused there, and seeing the sadness in his eyes, she couldn't help but take the opportunity to tease him a little and try to cheer him up. " _You_ were cocky and arrogant? Why, I can hardly believe it!"

He grinned in response, as she'd hoped. "Yes, I know, it is difficult to imagine." Sobering, he continued, "At any rate, one of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise; a wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesin, a friend of mine among the Crows who I suspect is looking for me even now, agreed to be part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna."

His face took on a nostalgic, soft look as he went on, and Ayla realized in that instant how he must have felt about this Rinna, but she remained silent, letting him continue. "She was . . . a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired."

"You fell in love with her, didn't you?" Ayla asked softly when he went quiet again.

"Rinna was special," he answered finally, not giving her a direct yes or no, although she knew him well enough to know what he wasn't saying. "I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me. When Taliesin revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesin to kill her."

His face wracked with guilt, refusing to meet her eyes directly now, he went on, "Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care."

Ayla stared at him for a long moment. The story was more appalling and devastating than she'd expected, even, but she could see how deeply he regretted what he'd done. And she knew firsthand how terribly frightening love could be; how much more would it be for someone who was an assassin, who had never known trust in anyone, not even family? She couldn't agree with the decision he'd made, but neither could she find it in her to condemn him for it, especially when he was obviously torn over it.

"But you did not kill her yourself?" she prompted quietly, trying to give him some absolution.

He shook his head. "Taliesin cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesin and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of the information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all." His voice broke slightly on the end of that sentence, and she realized that in the moment when he'd made that decision, he'd truly believed Rinna had betrayed him – or at least had convinced himself enough that it seemed as though he did.

"I'm so sorry, Zev," she said at last, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently.

He looked at her gratefully, squeezing her hand back. "I . . . wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesin convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn't have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done." His face began to take on angry, scornful lines, and he clenched her hand a little tighter. "The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew . . . and they didn't care. And one day my turn would come."

"But . . . why would he admit that?" Ayla was confused. She did not understand how a master could care so little for those he led, or even so little for appearances that he would admit such a thing, knowing it might turn those he followed against him.

"To rub it my face, perhaps," Zevran replied sadly, the anger fading. "That I was nothing. That _she_ was nothing." He let go of her hand, taking a long drink. "You were right, my dear, and very perceptive. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at the fabled Grey Wardens? And then . . . I fought you, instead. And, well, here I am."

"That is awful, Zevran. I'm so sorry," she said again. What else could she say in response? She could see why he might have chosen the way he did, in both respects, and in all honesty, she could not say that she would have chosen differently had she been in his place. She hoped that she would have, but she could not say so with any great conviction.

"It . . . does feel good to speak of it with someone," he admitted softly. "You were right about that as well, though I had sworn I never would. You do not . . . think less of me?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," she shook her head with certainty. "I can see how deeply you regret it, how much you wish you could change it, and why you might have chosen that way. And I cannot truly say that I wouldn't have done the same. So no, I do not think any less of you. And I thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

"You would not have done the same thing," he said, belief ringing clear in his voice, "but I thank you for saying so. I am . . . grateful to you for listening, and more that you think no less of me. Whatever I sought in leaving Antiva, I think you and the Wardens have helped me find it. I owe you a great debt, and once I am truly free of the Crows, I will make sure to fulfill it."

"You owe me nothing," she replied firmly. "Even if you had, you've paid it many times over, I am sure. And if the Crows come for you, I will help you be free of them, I promise you that."

He smiled at her with more genuine warmth than she had yet seen. "Ah, my dear, you are a true friend. I promise you in return that I will get you and your Warden through this Blight safely." Before she could protest that such a promise wasn't necessary, he interrupted her. "Now, I believe you had promised more pleasant stories, yes?"

She smiled, nodding, and gave up on the idea of talking him out of his promise for the moment. "I did. So let us share some other stories and enough drinks to forget the unpleasantness." She signalled the barmaid to bring over more drinks as she finished the one in front of her, ignoring the less than ideal taste.

So she began to tell him stories of the pranks she and her brother pulled on each other and those around them in the Order, bringing up as many light and amusing tales as she could think of, while they drank excessive amounts of dwarven ale waiting for Alistair and the others to return. While doing her best to keep him distracted, she did not bother to keep count of how many mugs she'd had, focusing only on chasing the darkness from his eyes.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Alistair returned to the tavern with the others, he spotted Ayla drinking together with Zevran, while Leliana sang with the dwarves. He greeted Ayla quickly, telling her he was going to go get cleaned up before returning, and she nodded, waving him off in a distracted fashion. Aedan decided to go get cleaned up as well, but Oghren elected to simply sit down and start drinking in his armor.

Alistair went up to the room and bathed quickly, since he was very hungry and didn't want to wait for food any longer than he had to. He changed into simple breeches and a tunic as well. When he returned to the tavern, ready to have some food and maybe a few drinks before his time alone with Ayla, he was surprised to see that she was standing on top of the table she'd been previously sitting at, of all things.

He hurried over to the table, dumbfounded. "Ayla, _why_ in the Maker's name are you up there?"

"Because of Oghren!" she declared, pointing at the dwarf, who had a mug in one hand and a fork in the other. He merely grunted in response.

He _had_ noticed there were an awful lot of empty mugs surrounding her and Zevran, but he hadn't realized that she was actually drunk during their brief greeting before he'd gone up to the room. If she thought that was an explanation for being on the table, though . . . "Because of . . ." he trailed off in disbelief, shaking his head.

"The dwarf," Zevran supplied helpfully, "told her she'd had too much ale to be able to stand up. She apparently thought standing on the table would prove him wrong."

"Exactly!" Ayla nodded as though this made perfect sense. "I got on the table _and_ I'm standing up!" She planted her hands on her hips for emphasis, which caused her to wobble unsteadily.

Alistair hastily reached up and steadied her with his hands before she fell. "Right, so clearly you haven't had too much to drink," he said dryly. "But, since you proved your point and all, how about you come down now?"

"Very well," she responded airily. He still had his hands at her waist to steady her, but he was nonetheless surprised when she stepped off the table in his direction with no warning. Somehow he managed to keep his hands on her waist and keep them both upright, while she clutched at his arms tightly for balance before he set her down on her feet.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded breathlessly, staring down at her. "You could have been hurt!"

"I knew you'd catch me, and you did," she replied simply, beaming at him. He couldn't help but notice that, as beautiful as she looked right now, her flaming hair loose around her in the way that he liked best, her bright green eyes _were_ a little glazed. She was definitely drunker than he'd realized. "You're awfully good at that, you know."

"Well, yeah, I guess, but - "

"Sit down!" she interrupted him, tugging on his arm and leading him over to the empty chair next to hers. "You need to eat! I'll go get you some food!"

She pushed him down on his chair and darted off, somewhat unsteadily, towards the bar, presumably to find a barmaid. He stared after her for a moment, unsure if he should go get her.

"The lass'll be fine," Oghren said, as if reading his mind. "She's a little drunk, aye, but the barmaids'll keep an eye on her."

"Just how much did she have to drink?" Alistair asked Zevran incredulously. He'd only seen Ayla have a few ales before; he'd never seen her quite like this.

The elf squinted at the mugs around them. "Honestly, I am not sure, my friend. We were kept well supplied while we waited for the rest of you to return and to wash up."

"Looks like the boss never did come back down from 'washing up'," Oghren snickered, glancing around at the other tables.

Alistair looked around the tavern too, just now realizing that he hadn't seen Aedan either. "I guess not," he admitted. Well, if anybody deserved to relax and enjoy themselves, it was Aedan, he thought.

Ayla reappeared just then, flopping down in her chair breathlessly. "They'll be over with the food soon," she told Alistair, before looking at Oghren. "See, I _told_ you I could stand up! And walk!"

"Aye, lass, you were right," the dwarf agreed, stabbing his fork into some more food. He pointed said fork at her for emphasis. "I told the boy you looked like a handful though, and _I'm_ right about that."

"A handful?" Ayla repeated, staring at the dwarf. She turned to look at Alistair, demanding, "Am I a handful?"

Caught off guard, Alistair stammered, "Oh, well, maybe a little." He cursed himself immediately after giving that answer, certain that she was going to be mad, and shot a glare at the dwarf, who merely grinned.

He was surprised, however, when Ayla suddenly sat herself down in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and purred, "You don't mind, though, do you?"

_Oh, Maker_. His reaction was one of instant and predictable lust as his arms went around her automatically. "No, I don't," he assured her. How could he, when she was in his arms and looked at him like that?

She beamed at him. "Good." She planted a kiss on his lips so quickly he barely had a chance to respond before she slipped out of his arms and back to her seat, downing another swallow of ale.

"See? Handful," Oghren mumbled around his food. "And she's got you managed."

Alistair couldn't help but smile at that. The dwarf wasn't wrong, but he truly didn't mind. "She does," he agreed.

"My dwarven friend, we should all be so lucky as Alistair here," Zevran declared, toasting him with his mug. "Being managed by a deadly sex goddess is no hardship."

"Zeeeeevvvv," Ayla whined, pointing at the elf over her mug. "I told you not to call me that!"

"But why not, my dear? It is true!" Zevran proclaimed. He shot a wicked look at Alistair. "Is it not, Alistair?"

"Oh no," Alistair waved his hands in protest. "I am _not_ answering that question! Or any other question you two ask about us, for that matter!" He pointed at both the elf and the dwarf. They both merely laughed in return.

His food appeared at that moment, and Alistair began to eat with relief, hoping he wouldn't have to answer any more questions. Really, it was surprisingly good considering how bad the dwarven ale tasted, though he drank some of that as well.

"Well, if you ain't going to answer any more questions about the lass, then," Oghren said as he ate, "why not tell me more about this Blight of yours, so I know what I'm getting into?"

Glad for the change in topic, Alistair willingly told Oghren the important details of everything that had happened so far while he ate, Zevran occasionally chiming in. Ayla appeared to only be half paying attention, although to his relief she didn't appear to notice that he'd asked the barmaid to replace her ale with water from now on. At one point, she declared her chair was too hard and proceeded to drape herself in his lap again, remaining there for the rest of the conversation.

By the time he'd finished explaining everything to Oghren, Alistair had decided that having Ayla there in his lap was a unique form of torture. She smelled incredible, she looked beautiful, if still a little sauced, and she kept _moving_. He was fervently wishing he hadn't changed out of his armor. He honestly didn't know how much more he could take.

Now that the conversation about the Blight was finished, Zevran and Oghren had changed the topic to discussing the most interesting or amusing battle stories that they knew. Alistair wasn't really paying attention, instead debating between trying to slip away with Ayla without them noticing, or just announcing that they were leaving. He wasn't sure he wanted to endure the teasing that was sure to accompany their departure, though.

But then Ayla decided to force his hand. "I was supposed to give you some tender nursing care, wasn't I?" she murmured. He nodded, wondering where she was going with this, but before he could say anything, she whispered in his ear, "Tell me where it hurts, and I'll kiss it better," before giving a slight wiggle of her hips.

He had been fairly aroused already, having her in his lap all this time, but he instantly grew harder at her words and movement, and his control snapped. There was really only so much a man could be expected to take, he decided, and he no longer cared whether Oghren and Zevran teased him. He stood up quickly, bringing her up with him and setting her down on her feet in front of him.

"Oh, are we going now?" Ayla asked, grinning wickedly at him, making him wonder if she hadn't sobered up more than he'd realized over the last little while.

"Yes, I think it's time to, uh, rest, don't you?" he replied quickly, looking over her shoulder at the elf and dwarf, who were both smirking at him. "Good night," he added, before beating a hasty retreat, pulling Ayla along with him towards the stairs.

Zevran called something after them Alistair didn't quite catch, and Oghren roared with laughter, but at this point, Alistair was really beyond caring. Once inside the room, he locked the door and turned to Ayla. Before he could make a move himself, however, she had already sealed her lips to his, shoving him back against the door and fumbling with the laces of his breeches.

_Maker's breath_ , he thought, dazed, as he returned the kiss with equal passion and tried to find his way beneath her tunic. He was sure she'd probably had him more aroused at some point, but just now, he couldn't bring it to mind. Somehow, her hands were more sure than his and she had his laces undone in no time before he'd gotten her tunic off.

Her mouth left his as she shoved his breeches and smallclothes down to the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with fiery lust, as she asked, "Where does it hurt? Right . . . here?"

Her mouth closed over him before he could respond, and he could only manage a strangled noise in answer. The heat of her mouth, the cleverness of her tongue, the softness of her fingers as they played over what her mouth didn't cover, were all more incredible than he remembered; he was awash in a rising tide of lust and couldn't focus on anything else. His hands clenched into fists by his side as he tried not to thrust himself further into her mouth.

He could feel the tension coiling tighter in him and his hips started to buck involuntarily. He decided suddenly that he didn't want to spend himself in her mouth this time, and he pulled her away abruptly. She looked up at him, confused. "I wasn't done," she said breathlessly.

He shook his head. "I don't want to _be_ done . . . not yet," he managed. "I need to be inside you."

Her eyes were dark as she nodded in response, getting to her feet and stripping off her clothes. He stepped out of his breeches, pulled off his tunic and advanced on her as soon as he was done. She was in her smallclothes, reaching for her breastband, and squeaked in surprise as he picked her up before she'd finished and carried her to the bed, dropping her on it.

He pulled off the bottom half of her smallclothes and kissed his way up her legs, keeping her arms pinned down so she couldn't pull off her breastband herself. He'd decided he wanted to do it. He slipped his tongue briefly in her core on his way by, until she started to shudder; but he stopped there, wanting her fully undressed before either of them reached their release.

"Alistair," she protested when he pulled away. "Don't _stop_."

"Not yet," he told her. "I want to keep going for now." He'd go back to that later; they had some time for once, and he did adore the taste of her and the sounds she would make when he was doing it, but he had a different goal in mind this time. She huffed in reply but nodded reluctantly.

So he continued kissing his way up her stomach and towards her breastband. Once he reached it, he let go of her arms to remove it; she took advantage of his distraction to wrap her legs around him, and with a twist of her hips, somehow flipped him over onto his back. He'd still managed to remove her breastband, however, and closed his mouth around a nipple before she could distract him further, sucking hard. She cried out, her back arching, her legs loosening their grip, and he promptly flipped her back over beneath him, leaving her breast to take possession of her mouth instead.

The sweet taste of her mouth and the way her tongue was tangling with his was so distracting he didn't notice right away when her hand wrapped around his length. When she began to rub her thumb over the tip and his body started to shudder, though, he noticed. He pulled his mouth from hers and groaned, gripping her wrist and taking her hand away. "Ayla, please," he growled, "I need you to stop distracting me."

She smiled slyly up at him. "Then why don't you make me?"

Had he not been so driven mad with lust by her, he might not have responded to her challenge the way he did. But he was, and he took her at her word. So he picked her up and flipped her over onto all fours, his addled brain deciding that if her hands were busy keeping herself upright, she wouldn't be distracting him. Far from being upset, she merely smirked over her shoulder at him and wiggled that delectable rear of hers at him.

Yes, he'd definitely had enough. He got up on his knees, spread her legs apart just that little bit further, gripped her hips, and sheathed himself in her in one thrust. She gasped, and he moaned, the feeling of her warmth enclosing him almost enough to finish him off then and there. But he took a deep, steadying breath, determined to bring her with him, and began to move, at first slowly, but as she pushed back against him, he went faster, until she was barely able to keep herself upright.

He felt himself getting close, the coiled pressure building quickly, and knowing that she hadn't hit her release yet, he drove into her further even as he reached a hand around to find the her center. She cried out his name as his finger hit it and began to rub steadily, and when he felt her begin to shudder and clench tightly around him, he increased the pressure, causing her to clamp down tightly around him as she let out a long moan of release. He couldn't suppress his own hoarse cry in return, and the sensation was enough to finally send him over the edge as he emptied deep within her.

He collapsed on top of her for a moment, feeling so drained he could barely move, let alone think. But when she elbowed him in the stomach, he dredged up enough willpower to roll off her onto his back. After another moment, she crawled on top of him to lay across his chest. His arms went around her automatically once he could lift them again, and he stroked her soft skin gently with one hand.

"I . . . uh . . . hope you didn't mind," he murmured after a few more minutes.

She raised her head enough to look at him, and smiled. "No, not at all. I did tell you to make me, as you'll recall. And it was . . . mmm . . . quite satisfying. Did I take _proper_ enough care of you?" She smirked at him, and he nodded, grinning. She laid her head back down, giving a contented sigh. "Good, because now I want to sleep."

"As my lovely nursemaid wishes," he replied softly, tightening his arms around her. She might be a handful, but he wasn't about to let go of her for the rest of his life. She was _his_ handful, and Maker willing, when the Blight was over, she'd be his wife. When he fell asleep a few moments later to the sound of her steady breathing, he had no nightmares for the first time in weeks.


	41. It Came As a Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan reflects on her feelings for Aedan Cousland, after he is badly wounded fighting the broodmother, and finally admits to how she feels after they return to Orzammar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not one of the regular chapters but actually a one-shot that I had posted separately. However, some of it does take place at this point in the story and is referred to in later chapters, so I thought I would post it here. As this is a one-shot that's sort of lifted from the story, it's not fully structured as a chapter. It more reflects Morrigan's thoughts and some of her memories of past events, and then ends with a current event, that takes place at the same time as the events at the end of Chapter 40. It also contains some Aedan/Morrigan smut at the end, so if you don't wish to read that, simply stop reading once the conversations are finished.

It Came As a Shock

Events had not exactly gone according to her plan since leaving the Wilds, Morrigan reflected as she awaited Aedan in their room at Tapster's. Not at all according to the plan she had concocted for herself, actually. Initially she had thought her reluctance to leave the Wilds, her resentment towards her mother for making her go, had been because she thought she would hate it, hate those she travelled with. She had expected they would revile her and remove her from their group as soon as possible.

Now, however, she realized that her true fear, deep down where she had not analyzed it or admitted it to herself before, had not been that she would hate the experience. No, she had been more afraid that she would enjoy it far too much, enjoy the company of the intriguing dark-haired male Warden far too much. That it – that he - would shake her to her core. And that was the fear that had come true.

She was no longer the woman who believed in power and survival only, who held only disdain about caring for others. No, now she had not only her handsome Warden that she cared about far more than she'd expected, but a woman she had come to view as a friend, perhaps even a sister. And she had found herself changing, doing things she would not normally condone or viewed as impractical, simply because it made them happy. Both of them were far too compassionate, too willing to jump into danger for the sake of others, which meant she had to go along with their plans, despite her better judgment, if she did not want anything to happen to them. At least they were slightly more practical than others in the group, though.

The rest of their party she cared little for; they were all useful in their own way, but it would not grieve her in the slightest should something happen to any of them. But it _would_ upset Aedan and Ayla, and for that reason alone, she found herself ensuring that they all lived through their experiences. She'd even helped that fool Templar simply because her friend, her sister, would be devastated if something happened to him. Surprisingly, she'd found him more tolerable of late; Ayla's love for him, and his love for her, oddly seemed to be making him less of an idiot. Most of the time, at any rate.

But all of that was not even the worst of it. No, the worst of it all was she'd fallen prey to a trap she'd told herself she was above; one that she swore she would never succumb to. And it was all because of Aedan; that damnably fascinating, intelligent, provoking, insufferably smug man who was impressive in so many ways.

She had gone into the journey planning to seduce him, of course, as ordered by her mother. He was the far more acceptable of the two choices she had, after all. But she hadn't expected to care about him. Nor had she expected the womanizing Warden to care about her. But her feelings for him had crept up on her, and he had been careful to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. So it had come as a shock to find she'd fallen in love with Aedan Cousland, and he loved her in return.

She had not realized it, not fully, until the moment he'd fallen in battle against the broodmother. Her own reaction to seeing his fall had alarmed and terrified her. The grief and pain had ripped through her, and she had screamed in denial without even realizing she had done it. A saving rage had quickly followed; a desire to obliterate the darkspawn that had wounded him. The rage had powered a lightning spell greater and more destructive than any she had ever attempted before; there had been nothing left of the enemies around him but ash.

She had hurried to his side immediately after that, drawing upon all the magic that she had learned from the meddlesome old woman to heal his grievous wound after she had removed the offending sword. When she had first asked the old woman to teach her the art of healing, she had claimed it was merely to make herself more useful, and because she was certainly capable of performing any feat a Circle mage could. But in that moment, she admitted it might have also been driven by a desire to save Aedan's life if need be. Because, she realized then, she did not want to lose him. Not now, not ever.

She had been badly shaken by that incident and the realization of the true depth of her feelings for him. She, who had always been so disdainful of love, so sure that it was worthless. So sure that her sister Ayla, despite how highly she regarded her normally, was an utter fool for falling prey to it. And yet, she had finally been unable to deny it, unable to deny that the growing feelings she'd been trying to suppress were, in fact, that same useless emotion. She loved her irritatingly handsome Warden, against her own nature, against her own wishes and desires.

When he'd finally awoken later, in the corner of that room down in the Deep Roads where Alistair had ordered them to retreat to, his head still in her lap as she waited for him to regain consciousness after the healing spells both she and Wynne had applied, she had received yet another shock. In the unguarded moment when he'd seen her face immediately upon waking, he had smiled at her with such warmth and _love_ in his eyes, she'd realized he returned her feelings, in spite of his claims otherwise.

She'd had her suspicions about his feelings for her before then, certainly, but any time she'd brought it up, he'd always been quick to dismiss the notion that he had any deeper feelings for her. He had always manipulated her into believing he was only interested in a physical relationship; that all he wanted was what she had initially asked for: sex, lust, and passion. She should have known better, however. One of Aedan's many talents was his silver tongue, his ability to easily guide others into believing – and doing – whatever he wanted.

In that moment, seeing his true, unguarded feelings for the first time, she realized he'd only been telling her what she wanted to hear. He'd allowed her to believe that lust was all there was between them, so she would not flee before his trap closed. And she had not, not before it was too late, as she now knew it was.

"You are a fool," she had told him sharply, angry and frightened, as he'd sat up and faced her. "You are a fool and so am I."

He hadn't denied it; he'd merely sighed and fixed her with a long look, his emotions back to being guarded and unreadable. "Are you referring to the fact that I lo –"

"Do not say it!" She'd snapped at him, cutting his words off, her heart pounding with anxious tension in her chest. "You should not feel that way about me. And I . . . have allowed myself to become . . . too close. This is a weakness, for us both."

He'd nodded, slowly. "It can be a weakness, if you let it," he'd responded simply. "It can also be a strength, however."

She'd shaken her head frantically at him, terrified as she could never remember being. "It cannot, and this is for your own good. I would not . . . I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you . . . are not worth mine." Though she'd said those words, she knew she did not truly believe them. Deep in her heart, she thought he was worth everything, and that was exactly why she could not allow this to happen.

He'd taken her hands in his, ignoring her attempts to pull away, and looked deep into her eyes with his stormy grey gaze she found so annoyingly appealing. "Morrigan . . . I know you are not like other women. That is why I feel about you the way that I do. And you are absolutely worth my distraction; I am completely certain of it."

She had not known what to say in the face of his conviction; he'd shaken her all over again. She wanted to push him away, but she could not find the words. "I . . . you are impossible," she'd replied at last. "Have it your way. But I will tell you truly now: you will regret it in the end."

"I won't, and you will never make me believe that," he'd answered implacably, before raising her hands to kiss them. He'd gone on to enquire what had happened while he had been unconscious, changing the subject and ignoring it for the remainder of the night thereafter.

The very next day, however, while the others had allowed them time alone together in their secluded corner of the room for Aedan to rest and recover, he'd dug something out of his pack and brought it back to present to her.

When he'd handed the beautiful, elaborate golden mirror to her with that warm smile on his face, she hadn't known what to say; she'd turned it over in her hands, studying it and realizing its similarity to the one she had told him about before. That was one of the things that had earlier endeared him to her; the fact that he had actually asked her questions about her life, had wanted to know more about her instead of limiting his interest to just the one thing that most men seemed to want from her. To find that he had not only asked but had listened closely and, more than that, had remembered, had made her heart swell with warmth for him all over again. Had she not already been in love with him before, that would have been the deciding moment, she felt sure.

"It is . . . just the same as the mirror which Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago," she had said softly, looking up at him, hoping she was at least somewhat disguising the wonder she felt. "It is incredible that you found one so like it. I am uncertain what to say. You must wish something in return, certainly."

He had shaken his head in return, his eyes softening. "Not at all. It's a gift, Morrigan, because it pleases me to please you."

"I have . . . never received a gift," she admitted, not knowing what else to say. What did one say in circumstances such as these? It was not one of the many things she'd been taught. "Not one that did not also come with a price attached."

"Well . . ." he'd shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable and embarrassed, as he always did before he revealed something of his true feelings, she'd noticed. "I would not attach a price to a gift for the woman that I . . . love."

Despite her qualms about the way they both felt, and her fear of the emotion in general, she had felt inexplicably happy upon hearing him say that, even as she'd frowned at him. "Do not say that."

He'd merely smiled at her in return, sweeping her his best courtly bow. "As you command, my lovely witch."

He was impossible, and maddening, and yet she did not want to lose him, now more than ever, she had thought to herself. So she had reached into her own pack and produced the ring that she had been debating with herself about giving him for a long time now. "I have something for you, as well. 'Tis a ring." She'd handed the simple ring to him, the one made of a twisted loop of rosewood, the grain of which seemed to constantly shift and change as one looked at it. Noting the widening of his eyes as he'd taken it from her, she'd continued before he could say anything further, "Now, before you get any foolish notions, let me explain. Flemeth once gave me the ring because it allowed her to find me no matter where I went, in case I was captured by hunters. I disabled its power as soon as we left the Wilds. Recently, however, I thought to change it. Now, I will be able to find whoever wears it, instead."

He'd been putting the ring on various fingers, trying to find the best fit, but he looked up at her now with a merry gleam in his eyes. "So, you want to always know where I am, then? To be able to find me? Do you think you'd miss me if I wasn't around?"

She had snorted in disdain, doing her best to keep her lips from twitching with the amusement she felt. She'd found herself doing this often around both him and Ayla – they both thought themselves rather amusing and sometimes they succeeded at being so. "I doubt it," she'd replied coolly, noticing that he'd remained unperturbed. "It is not to track you, you understand. I believe you are too important to risk. If you were to get captured, however, it would be far easier to find you with this."

He'd nodded in reply, adopting an air of great seriousness, though she could tell the gleam had not gone away. "So it's entirely for practical notions, then? Not even a little bit . . . romantic?"

She'd sighed in exasperation, and considered making another cutting remark, before going as close to the truth as she'd dared. "I . . . have no desire to see us part company so soon. Not unless we wish to, that is," she'd amended. When a wide grin had split his face at this remark, she had continued hastily, "Do not read more into it than is there. You have supplied me with equipment; certainly this is not so very different, is it?"

His grin had turned insufferably smug by this point, as it was wont to do at times, as he replied airily, "Oh, if you say so. It's not at all a present because you love me, then." He'd finally ended up putting the ring itself on, and studied it on his hand for a moment before looking up at her, his face entirely serious as he'd said quietly, "Thank you for the gift, Morrigan."

She could deal better with him when he wasn't being serious, she'd decided, suddenly uncomfortable. And was she actually blushing, of all things? "You . . . are welcome," she'd replied quietly, as she wrapped the mirror he'd given her and tucked it carefully away. "Perhaps it will be useful, some day."

He had merely nodded in response to that before kissing her with a passion that had taken her breath away; but given where they were, and the presence of the others in the same room, they had not gone further than that. They'd had no real opportunity to be alone since then as they had gone on to find the Anvil of the Void before exiting the Deep Roads as rapidly as possible. So now she was waiting for him to come back from the dwarven Assembly, allowing them an opportunity to be truly alone for the first time since she'd realized how she felt about him.

But what was she going to do once she had him alone? She did not know. She wanted him badly, but at the same time, she was still utterly terrified of this love she held for him. This . . . _dependency_ she had on him and this need for him to be alive and well. The whole thing was so very foreign to her. She'd declined to wait downstairs with the others, hoping that she would have time to decide her course of action when Aedan finally did return, but she'd had no luck so far. And the sound of the heavy, booted footsteps coming towards the door told her she was out of time.

The door opened and Aedan came through, looking incredibly weary, still dressed in his battered, dirty armor, as he'd gone straight from the Deep Roads to the Assembly of the dwarves. His face lit up when he saw her pacing back and forth in the middle of the room, waiting for him. "Morrigan, why didn't you wait downstairs with the others?" he asked, crossing the room to her as he closed the door behind him.

She sniffed, trying to ignore the fact that her heart rate increased at the sight of him. "Why should I wish to be down in a noisy tavern with drunken dwarves?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, grinning. "Because our friends are down there as well?" When she rolled her eyes, he went on, "You could at least have spent some time together with Ayla. She is your friend, is she not?"

Morrigan shrugged, not denying it. "Perhaps I did not wish to see that fool Templar slobbering all over her." When Aedan sighed and shook his head, though he was unable to stifle a smile at her description, she finally decided to tell him the true reason. "Or, perhaps . . . I merely wished some time alone with you, as we so rarely get any time alone together. I . . ."

She was startled, a muffled gasp coming from her, when he cut off her words with a kiss. It was hard, hungry, and heated, and he slammed her into the wall of the room with the force of his ardour, but she cared not. As soon as the wall was at her back, she returned the kiss in equal measure, welcoming the flare of heat his touch always awakened within her. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, forcing their bodies closer together, gripping his head tightly with one hand, his shoulder with the other as she devoured his mouth with hers, sending light, tingling shocks of her lightning magic through him. She loved the little growls and moans that never failed to elicit from him. She may not share her affections as publicly as her sister did with _her_ Warden, but she had no reservations about anything they did in private.

When it seemed her lungs must burst for want of air, he pulled his mouth from hers, breathing heavily, and moved to her neck, sucking hard on the skin there. He pressed his nose against her neck briefly and breathed in deeply. "You smell so good," he groaned against her skin, and the rough sound of his voice heated her blood yet further. He jerked his head up, looking suddenly guilty. "Ah . . . perhaps I should bathe."

She could not help but smile as she realized he _was_ still completely filthy from their weeks of travel in the Deep Roads. "I did have a bath drawn up for you," she pointed out, indicating the steaming tub in the corner she had ordered the dwarves to prepare for him. "You might have noticed had you bothered to look. There is food on the table as well."

A wide smile spread across his face. "My lovely . . ." He kissed her neck again, nibbling on it briefly, moving to the other side as he continued, "lovely . . . witch." That was another thing she'd always liked about him; rather than using witch as a scornful insult for her, as most did, he used it as a term of endearment. "You do think of absolutely everything, don't you?" He finished with a long, slow, tender kiss, that suffused her body with a heady warmth before he set her back down, pulling away.

The intensity of that warmth, the shattering intimacy of that last kiss, the way his eyes flared silver as he looked at her with equal parts love and lust; it was all too much for her. She felt overwhelmed, panicked, frightened. Her heart was beating much too fast and her palms were sweating as he moved towards the bath, unbuckling his armor. "Now that I've gotten you all dirty, you will have to bathe again," he said, turning to smile at her with wicked invitation.

Ordinarily, she would have been happy to respond to his invitation in kind, but it was too much right now. It was too intense, too frightening. She just could not deal with it. "I – no. I do not wish to. I am . . . not in the mood." She was, her body protested. It was aching with longing for him, but she ignored it. Her emotional distress was greater.

His eyebrows shot up, his fingers stalling briefly on his armor before resuming their task, the pieces falling to the ground. "What do you mean? You certainly seemed to be in the mood for it a moment ago."

"Well, I am not any longer," she snapped, annoyed that he was pressing the matter. " I do not leap at your command like a trained mabari warhound."

He had just stripped off the cotton tunic he wore beneath his armor, leaving his well-muscled chest bare, which caused both an ache in her loins and one in her heart at the sight of the scar the healing had been unable to prevent; the one that showed she'd nearly lost him. He looked up at her and frowned, confusion etched across his face. "What in the Maker's name brought this on?"

"I warned you, did I not?" she demanded, trying to hide the fear and pretend she was only angry at him, but she did not know whether she was fully successful. "I told you that this was a weakness that was driving me mad. And yet you insisted."

He crossed the room back over to her, now wearing only his cotton leggings, the concern in his gaze making her realize she had not fooled him at all. "Why are you so frightened?" he asked her softly, taking her hands in his own.

She gazed back at him helplessly, not wanting to reveal her vulnerability and yet finding herself unable to hold back. "'Tis all so . . . unexpected," she admitted at last. "I have no experience with any of it. And yet I find myself wanting it. Hungering for it. For you." Her anxiety grew, overwhelming her when he didn't say anything immediately, causing her to blurt out, "That is not right, is it? That is not how a normal woman acts? I can see it in your eyes. Release me. Tell me that you wish to end this. Make me believe you and I . . . will be grateful."

"No," he snapped, his face darkening with a sudden anger. "I will not. If you do not wish to be with me any longer, Morrigan, then _you_ have to be the one to end it. I will not end this, I don't want it to end; I have no intention of letting you go unless you run from me."

They stared at one another for a long moment, the anger slowly fading from his face when she did not immediately reject him. She, however, still felt both panicked and terrified, like a deer trapped in the sight of a wolf and unable to move for fear of what would happen. It was not a sensation she was accustomed to, and she hated herself in that moment for feeling it, and him for making her feel it.

And yet, though part of her wanted to be able to tell him she would end this, that she would run from him because she no longer wanted him, she still could not bring herself to say it. She had demanded he release her because she did not have the strength to pull herself free, she realized. "You miserable, selfish bastard," she choked out at last, admitting defeat. "You will regret this. And so will I. And . . . perhaps that is how it must be." He would come to hate her in the end, she knew, once he found out the reason she'd truly come along.

"I am selfish," he agreed, closing the distance between them, his hands going to her waist and pulling her closer. "Too selfish to ever give you up unless you make me. And no matter how many times you say it, you will never convince me that I will regret it."

"You are . . . completely impossible and utterly maddening," she sighed, giving in as she swayed closer to him. His hands slid up her back and he pulled her in for another fiery kiss. The kiss was so much better without the barrier of his armor between their bodies, when she could feel the hard, insistent pulse of his need pressed against her, so close to where her own body throbbed for him.

"And you love me for it," he murmured when he pulled back, smiling at her when she didn't disagree with him. "Now, are you going to join me in the bath willingly, or must I carry you there?"

She started in surprise when she realized he'd managed to slip her hood up above her head in preparation to take it off, and smiled. "Well, I suppose if I am getting undressed, I have little choice, do I?"

"No, you do not," he agreed, removing the hood and its attached piece of tunic with her assistance. In short order, they had one another undressed between heated kisses and caresses, and though she reached for him, noticing how aroused he already was, he backed away from her towards the tub. "I would like to be at least a little cleaner for you first," he told her, grinning even as his eyes blazed silver as they swept over her naked body. He stepped in the large brass tub and sat down, the groan he made as he sank into the hot water utterly appealing.

She sashayed towards him, putting extra sway into her hips as she went, noticing with utter feminine pride how his eyes followed her every movement, though he was trying to wash himself hastily at the same time. When she reached the tub at last, she climbed in and sank down, straddling his legs, her upper body only inches from his. She took the cloth from him. "Allow me," she breathed, loving the hitch in his breath as she rocked slightly on his lap.

But she did not move the few inches it would take to impale herself on him; not just yet. Instead, she lathered up the cloth with soap, and slowly rubbed it over every inch of his torso, cleaning him very slowly and very thoroughly. She rinsed the soap off before kissing, licking, and sucking the areas she'd just cleaned. When he reached for her, tried to hurry her up and tempt her with his own caresses, she knocked him back with a light blast of magic, and he smirked, leaning back and allowing her to continue, though his breathing was growing ragged and his chest was heaving.

Every so often, she would move forward that little bit so that her burning core would just brush up against the length of his erection, which was rock hard at this point. The contact would cause him to shudder and moan, and she was getting very close to the point of no return herself, but she wanted him to beg for it. Her body ached for the touch of his hands and mouth, but she knew he ached to touch her even more, so she denied them both for the moment.

"Morrigan," he rasped out, his head tilted back as she brushed her hands over the rippling muscles of his abdomen, trailing them down the thin line of his dark hair to his manhood. "Morrigan, please . . ." He let out a low, almost inhuman noise when she brushed her soap-slicked hand over him. The sound made her own body throb with insistent need, as she welcomed that heavy, molten feeling low in her abdomen. "Morrigan," he gasped as she stroked her hand over him again, "I'm begging you . . ."

"Well, if you are begging, then . . ." she smiled slyly, trying to ignore how breathless she felt herself. She let him go, before she braced herself on his shoulders and sank down on him in one fluid movement. He growled as she moaned, an incredible satisfaction flowing through her as he filled her.

When she halted for a moment, savouring the sensation of him inside her, he launched into action, claiming her mouth savagely. His hands were suddenly everywhere, rolling her nipple between his fingers, squeezing her breasts, her buttocks, trailing over her, his fingers unerringly finding her most sensitive spot and stroking slowly, then faster. Her hips jerked and she let out a strangled cry, watching as he pulled back and a smug grin spread over his face at the sound.

That was all it took to push her into action herself; she began riding him fast and hard, rolling and twisting her hips as her own hands and mouth were everywhere on him. He met her stroke for stroke, his hips rising up to crash against hers. They duelled fiercely for control as need built within them both, as she felt herself began to teeter on the edge, her body tightening around him. As she felt herself sliding ever closer to that edge, she nipped at his earlobe and whispered, "I do love you, Aedan, my Warden."

She leaned back to meet his eyes, wide and burning with need, as he thrust hard into her one last time and she felt him release deep within her as she finally slipped over the edge into an explosion of pleasure. "Morrigan, my love," he moaned into her ear as she collapsed on top of him, and they both went limp from their release.

Later, in the bed, after they had spent themselves in each other's arms once more, he chuckled softly beneath her. "I think I was supposed to go back down to re-join the others. I suppose it is far too late now."

"'Tis much too late, and I am not nearly finished with you yet," she informed him. If she was unable to part from him, she might as well make use of their time together, she decided.

"Oh?" he grinned, a teasing light in his eyes as he brushed back her hair. "By all means, use me as much as you would like, my beautiful witch. I am yours to command."

"I will, " she assured him, smiling in spite of herself. "In a few more moments. " She hesitated before going on softly, "About the request I made of you before we came to Orzammar . . ."

He raised his head a little bit further, meeting her gaze steadily. "About confronting your mother, do you mean? Don't worry, I've not changed my mind. When we are back in Redcliffe and the Arl is preparing for the Landsmeet, I will go to confront her directly."

"You should not go alone, though," she warned him, her heart seizing with worry for him. "My mother is dangerous. I cannot accompany you, but I will speak to Ayla. Since . . . we are friends, perhaps she would be willing to help also."

"And then talk Alistair into it, too?" Aedan asked, raising a brow at her.

"Well, I am reluctant to admit it, but he _would_ be useful," she admitted begrudgingly. "Besides, though he bears no love for me, he would not allow Ayla to go into danger without him."

"That is true," Aedan agreed, his expression unreadable again, as it so often was, which frustrated her to no end. "Well, if it will make you feel better, speak to Ayla about it, then. If she agrees, I will take her with me to see Flemeth when we get back to Redcliffe."

Giving in to a moment of weakness, she caressed his cheek gently and kissed him tenderly, pulling back to see a look of shock and wonder on his face. "Thank you. For . . . agreeing to put yourself in danger to protect me. No one has ever . . . thank you."

He smiled, his whole face glowing with sudden warmth. "I will always protect you, Morrigan."

She nearly gasped with the flood of warmth that statement elicited in her, even as she felt sudden panic. What if the Blight claimed this Warden she had grown to love so dearly, despite her best efforts? What if he died trying to protect _her_ , of all things? "I . . . you should not be so . . ." she exclaimed, panicked. "You have no idea what will happen in days to come, to make such promises."

"You are right," he agreed again, his face softening as he stroked her back soothingly. "I don't know what will happen. I do know, however, that as long as I am alive, I will keep that promise."

Uncertain of what to say in the face of such a declaration, she finally answered, "Then . . . I will do my best to keep you alive, as well. For as long as I am able."

He smiled. "Thank you, my love. Now, I think I need to sleep before you make use of me again."

"Yes," she nodded, "perhaps that is best. You look weary." She laid her head down on his chest as he pulled her tighter to him, settling down to sleep. She would, she vowed to herself, keep him alive through this Blight. Even if he despised her in the end for it, once he discovered why she had come with him, it would not matter, because at least he would be alive. Even if nothing else went to her plans, she would get both Wardens through the defeat of the archdemon, alive and well, for her sake and for her sister's. That was the only plan that mattered anymore.


	42. Favours for Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla talks to Morrigan and promises to help Aedan confront Flemeth; Ayla then heads back up to their room to awaken Alistair, where they discuss what will happen when they return to Redcliffe. As they leave Orzammar, Ayla tells Alistair of the promise she made to Morrigan, and though he is not pleased, he eventually agrees to come along. On the way back to Redcliffe, their party is ambushed by men looking for Leliana, causing Ayla to make another promise to her friend to help her track down the person responsible.

Chapter 41: Favours for Friends

Ayla headed down to the tavern for breakfast the next morning, smiling to herself as she remembered the events of the previous night. She was a little embarrassed to recall some of the things she'd said and done earlier when she was drunk, but as Alistair's reactions had been amusing, she found she couldn't regret it entirely. Fortunately, the effects had worn off quickly, especially once he'd seen to it that she no longer drank any ale.

She found it sweet that he had done his best to take care of her when she'd been so out of it, and she was quite relieved that one of her shifter side effects that she had almost forgotten about had worked to sober her up quickly. As she so rarely drank more than a couple of ales, due to the lack of control it brought about, she had almost entirely forgotten that shifters had an increased metabolism capable of quickly breaking down alchohol, as well as some sedatives and poisons. They could still get quite impaired if they drank large amounts, but the effects would wear off very rapidly after they stopped drinking. Which was what had come to pass last night, and it had enabled her to shake off the effects of the ale she'd drunk quite quickly.

She had actually been almost entirely sober when she'd sat in Alistair's lap for the second time that night, but she'd been tired of waiting for him to head up to their room, and had decided to take advantage of her supposed drunkenness to torment him, remembering his previous reaction to her sitting in his lap. His body had reacted precisely as she'd hoped, but with his excellent control, he had not immediately dragged her off. She'd eventually had to torment him in a far more direct fashion to get the desired result, but in the end, it had worked exactly as planned. Actually, better than she'd expected; he was becoming increasingly bolder and more dominating with her when they made love, and she was thoroughly enjoying it.

With that in mind, she'd almost been tempted to wake him up a few moments ago as he'd asked her to do last time, thinking of all the wonderful ways she could have brought him awake. But seeing how peaceful he was as he slept, and recalling how much the Deep Roads had worn on both Wardens, she hadn't been able to bring herself to disturb him. He deserved as much peace as he could get; if he hadn't awakened in an hour or so, she would bring him some breakfast and wake him up then. In the meantime, she would join anyone currently awake and have breakfast herself.

As she reached the tavern, she discovered that only Morrigan was there, already eating at one of the tables. "Morrigan! We missed you and Aedan last night; he never returned for drinks after he went up to your room." She grinned mischievously at her friend.

Morrigan's lips twitched with amusement as Ayla sat down across from her, signalling for breakfast. Her golden eyes gleamed as she replied, "I believe he had planned to come down for a few drinks, but once he arrived in the room, I decided I did not wish to share him with the others."

Ayla laughed. "I cannot say as I blame you. Had I been up in our room when Alistair went to wash up, he would never have made it back down either."

Morrigan snorted. "I do hope that means the fool is at least good at warming your bed, if nothing else."

Where once she might have taken offense to the statement, Ayla now recognized it as Morrigan's way of being concerned about her, and an attempt to discern whether or not Alistair was treating her properly. So she merely grinned wickedly at the witch in response. "Oh, you have _no_ idea, Morrigan. He's a . . . very quick study."

"Oh?" the witch smiled faintly in return. "I am pleased for you, then. Am I to assume he still sleeps?"

Ayla nodded. "I didn't have the heart to wake him up." She smiled in thanks to the barmaid who had just set her breakfast down, and began to eat. After she'd swallowed a few bites, she looked back up at Morrigan. "Is Aedan still sleeping too? Did he mention when he wants to leave?"

"He is. I . . . was reluctant to disturb him, as well." Morrigan frowned, as though uncertain she should admit to such weakness. Ayla bit back a smile; she had the feeling that the witch had been as unsuccessful in guarding her heart against Aedan as she had been against Alistair. "He does wish to depart today, however. He fears we are running short on time, and 'tis a long journey back to Redcliffe."

Ayla sighed, poking at her food. As much as she wanted to leave the confines of the dwarves' underground kingdom, the thought that Redcliffe would be their next destination made her almost reluctant to do so. She suspected that Arl Eamon was not done trying to interfere with her and Alistair's relationship, and she was afraid that things would not turn out as she hoped in the Landsmeet. "Yes, Redcliffe. Don't remind me; I don't want to think of it any more than I have to."

Morrigan scowled. Ayla had told her friend all about the Arl's low opinion of her, so the witch knew exactly why she was reluctant to return. "Do not listen to that fool of an Arl. His opinion of you means nothing, and you should not allow it to disturb you. If you wish to remain with Alistair –" her lip curled as if to say she could not imagine why, but she continued – "then do so. He cannot stop you."

"Well, I'm certain he's going to try, but thank you, Morrigan." Ayla smiled at her. "It helps to know I have a friend supporting me."

The witch flushed. "I – you are most welcome. " She hesitated, before going on, "We – we are indeed friends, then? You truly mean that?"

Ayla frowned, her brows drawing together. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

Morrigan hesitated, looking strangely vulnerable before she began, "I am aware that I have . . . little talent for forming friendships. To put it lightly. 'Tis something I know nothing of, nor ever thought I needed. Yet you have always treated me as an equal, and have accepted me as I am."

"Well, of course I accepted you, just as you did me," Ayla reminded her gently. She knew Morrigan had trouble understanding such things, but she _was_ trying to learn. This only proved it. "I wasn't used to others accepting my shifter nature so easily. It meant a lot to me when you did, and how could I do any less than return the favour? That is, after all, what friends do. And I _am_ your friend, Morrigan."

Morrigan shook her head, looking confused still. "And that is what I do not understand. Of all the things I could have imagined when Flemeth told me to go with you and the Wardens, one of the very last would have been that I would find in you a friend. Perhaps even . . . a sister." She said the last slowly, as though reluctant to voice it aloud, but there was a look of hope deep in her eyes.

Ayla had to admit she was shocked, but pleasantly so. She had never thought to hear such a statement from her friend, but to hear it now warmed her deeply. She smiled broadly at Morrigan. "Yes, a sister, I think. I like the sound of that, I've only ever had an oafish big brother." She did her best to try to ignore the twinge of sadness thoughts of Mardin always brought up; she had found more here than she had ever hoped to have. She could not expect it to come without a price. If that price was that she never saw her brother again, there was little she could do about that. "I would be proud to call you sister."

"I . . . thank you," Morrigan smiled tremulously, her eyes shining with what looked like unshed tears. "I - I want you to know that while I may not always prove . . . worthy . . . of your friendship, I will always value it." She paused for a long moment, then continued, "I am reluctant to ask this of you, but I feel I have little choice. Might you be willing to do a favour for me?"

"Of course, Morrigan," Ayla agreed readily. She could see in the witch's gaze how much it cost her to ask for help, how much it stung her pride. She could not refuse her in light of that. "That is what friends – and sisters – are for."

"Do not agree before you know what it is I ask," Morrigan warned. She then proceeded to tell Ayla how Aedan had tracked down a grimoire for her at the Circle Tower that she had believed contained her mother's spells. Instead, after lengthy study, she had discovered that it detailed how her mother had remained alive for all this time, which was apparently by taking over the bodies of other witches, of her previous "daughters". She explained that she had already asked Aedan to confront and defeat her mother for her to spare her this fate, and he had agreed. "I do not wish for him to go alone, however," Morrigan concluded. "My mother is most powerful, and he is too valuable to risk. He is reluctant to order anyone to come with him on such a dangerous task, and so I had hoped that you might agree to accompany him."

Ayla hesitated. Had it been anyone – anything – else, she would have said yes immediately. However, as far as she could tell, Flemeth appeared to be this world's messenger, and to strike any blow against a messenger of the Goddess was utterly forbidden. "Morrigan – your mother – she is a messenger, is she not? A messenger of the Goddess, I mean? It is forbidden to fight them."

"A messenger?" Morrigan snorted derisively. "My mother is merely a powerful witch. Do you speak of the fact that she possesses knowledge she should not? 'Tis merely due to her powers, which come from a demon, not some . . . divine intervention."

Ayla frowned. It was true from all that she'd heard about Flemeth, that she did not necessarily sound like the paragon of goodness most messengers were, but this was a much darker world than her own, after all. "That may be true, but perhaps a darker world like this needs a darker messenger. " Seeing the look on Morrigan's face, knowing she was about to argue, she sighed and went on, "But I will go with Aedan and speak to her, at least. I will find out what she intends to do, and see if I can convince her otherwise. If she attacks us, then I will fight back, but not before. Does that sound fair?"

Morrigan nodded slowly. "It does, and I am most grateful. As I mentioned, I am unable to go with you, as I am not certain she would not be able to possess my body were I there. Perhaps, however, 'twould be prudent of you to bring Alistair along. He may be of some use."

Ayla shook her head. If she had her way, he wouldn't go anywhere near someone that dangerous. "I'll tell him where we are going, but I will not make him come with me. If he decides to come on his own, so be it, but I won't push him."

Morrigan tilted her head, frowning. "If you were to ask him to come, he would not refuse you. Despite his other faults, he is undoubtedly loyal to you."

"I know, and that's exactly why I won't ask him," Ayla replied, sighing. "I don't want him to feel obligated to help, when I am the one who agreed to the favour, and you two don't exactly . . . get along. So I will not make him go."

"I do not understand," Morrigan replied slowly. "But if that is what you wish, then so be it. 'Tis likely he will accompany you, anyway."

"Probably," Ayla conceded. She suspected he'd try to talk her out of it, and when that didn't work, he would end up going along to try to keep her safe. But at least that would be his choice, and she wouldn't feel quite so much that she'd manipulated him into it. "But at least I will know I did not make him go."

Following that, Ayla turned the conversation with her friend to other topics for a time while they finished their food. Neither Warden had made an appearance by the time they were done, so Ayla took her leave of Morrigan, promising once more to help as agreed once they reached Redcliffe. She talked the barmaid into giving her a tray of food, including a large wheel of cheese, before she went back up to the room.

Alistair was still sleeping in the bed when she entered, the covers tangled around the lower half of his body as he lay sprawled on his back, snoring softly. She smiled as she closed the door quietly and set the tray down on the table. She cut off a small piece of the cheese and climbed on the bed next to him, shaking his shoulder gently, and waving the cheese in front of his face when his eyes popped open.

He grinned when he realized what she was holding, sitting up in the bed as he did so. "You brought me cheese? Ah, my love, if you didn't already have my heart, you would now."

She laughed softly, leaning closer to him on her knees, the cheese in one hand, her lips only a few inches from his. "Oh really? Is this all it would have taken? Then I must have been wasting my time with everything else." When he leaned forward, his lips only a breath from hers, she pulled back, presenting him with the cheese instead as she smiled teasingly at him. "From now on, I will only bring you food, if that is all you need."

"Oh, you are a cruel, cruel woman," he sighed, his eyes sparkling as he watched her. "You're not going to make me choose between my unholy love of cheese and my _very_ unholy love of your mouth, are you?"

She pretended to consider it for a long moment, grinning as he pouted dramatically at her. "No, I suppose I am not that cruel," she replied, giving him a lingering kiss before she popped the cheese in his mouth.

He chewed and swallowed before replying with a wink, "Good. Because that would be a very difficult decision."

She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Would it? Because I can go and leave you and the cheese alone, you know." She made as if to get off the bed, but his arm snaked around her before she got very far and he pulled her into his lap.

"No, don't leave me here all alone," he breathed, trailing his mouth over her neck. She shivered at the feather-light touch of his lips. "I find I am much hungrier for the taste of you right now."

His hand was sliding up under her tunic, much to her delight, before he suddenly paused and looked at the door over her shoulder. "Wait, Aedan's not expecting us to leave right away, is he?"

"Not right away," she answered, but when he grinned and went to kiss her, she admitted reluctantly, "but as soon as he wakes up, he will want to leave."

Alistair groaned, resting his forehead against hers, his arms still snug around her. "Then I guess I'd better get ready to leave so he's not waiting on us." He gave her a quick, smouldering kiss before lifting her off his lap and getting off the bed.

"I suppose you had better," she agreed with a reluctant sigh, watching the impressive play of muscles in his backside as he went over to his pack, digging out smallclothes and the cotton garments he wore beneath his armor.

She continued to sit on the bed and watch as he pulled the clothes on, wondering if this was the last opportunity she would have to be with him like this. Wondering if she would ever share a room with him again, wake up to him there with her, if this was the only chance she'd ever get to bring him breakfast in bed. She thought she was likely being overdramatic, but she couldn't seem to shake the feeling, however much she wanted to.

When Alistair looked up after he'd pulled his tunic on and met her eyes, seeing her watching him, he grinned smugly for a second before his face fell. "Is something wrong?" he asked, concern suddenly lining his face.

She shook her head, trying to push her feelings down, knowing that he must have seen the worry in her eyes. "No, nothing. You should eat the rest of the food I brought you before we leave. You must be hungry."

He frowned at her, though he crossed the room to the table and sat down, pulling the food towards him. After he'd taken a few bites, he looked back at her. "I know something's bothering you, Ayla. Tell me what it is, please."

She hesitated, unsure if she really wanted to voice her fears aloud to him, but when she saw the stubborn set of his jaw, she knew he wouldn't drop it. "Fine. I'm . . . worried that everything will change when we get back to Redcliffe. That . . . we won't be able to be together like this again."

His eyebrows shot up. "What?" He exclaimed, his voice muffled by a bite of food he quickly swallowed. "Why in the Maker's name would you think that? Didn't I tell you I had an agreement with the Arl that I would stay with you until I became King? Since that is _never_ going to happen, nothing is going to change. We _are_ going to be together like this again."

She sighed. She didn't want to tell him what the Arl had asked Zevran to do, but she did want him to understand why she would still be worried. "Are you so certain that he won't try to come between us anyway?" she asked carefully. "That he won't . . . want me out of the way so that you'll be more willing to become King?"

He opened his mouth as though to disagree with her, before he sank back, thinking it over. "I'd like to believe he wouldn't," he replied at last, frowning. "But even were he to try, what makes you think he would succeed? You don't want to leave me, do you?"

"Of course not," she snapped, annoyed that he would even ask her that. She got off the bed and began to pace back and forth, full of restless energy. "I was more concerned he'd find a way to make _you_ leave _me_. To make you hate me, so you would be more willing to do your duty and become King."

"Ayla . . ." he shook his head, catching her arm as she paced by and turning her to face him. His face had softened, and his eyes were glowing with warmth as he looked at her. "I told you, my heart is yours. Nothing the Arl says or does will ever change that. Yes," he interrupted her when she opened her mouth to protest, obviously guessing what she was going to say, "he means a lot to me. But you mean _everything_ to me. And though I owe him much, I do not owe him my future, my chance at happiness with the woman I love. With _you_."

"Alistair . . ." she stared at him a long moment, shaken by his declaration, by the conviction behind it, even as she was swamped with relief. How was he always so good at comforting her? She wasn't even certain what to say in reply, so she went for humour and a teasing tone of voice as she said, "You're getting really good at this whole charming, saying the right thing bit, did you know that?"

He grinned cheekily at her. "I've been practicing." He sobered as he pulled her onto his lap again, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "Does that mean I've succeeded at easing your mind?"

"I think so," she replied quietly, returning his embrace and relishing in the feel of his arms around her. "Except . . . what if the Landsmeet does not go according to Aedan's plan? What if you _do_ have to become King?"

He shook his head. "I won't." She must have looked doubtful, for he squeezed her and said, "Has Aedan ever failed us yet?"

"Well, no," she admitted, "but . . ."

"Whether or not his plan works," he interrupted her, "I am staying with the Wardens, and I am staying with you. I will do whatever I have to, to make that happen. You are mine, and I _am_ keeping you."

She smiled, her doubts vanishing at the firm, unshakable conviction in his voice, the air of confidence and command around him that she had noticed more often lately. After all, had not the Goddess said he was her destiny? Surely it would all work out if they remained together in the face of all their obstacles, as they had so far. She let out a deep, relieved breath before looking up at him with sudden mischief in her eyes. "Is that so? I thought I was a handful?"

His eyes widened slightly before he laughed. "You remember that, do you? Well, then you'll also remember me saying that I don't mind, right?" His eyes darkened as his hands slid down to her buttocks, cupping and squeezing gently. She moaned softly at the sudden ache in her loins in response. He whispered huskily in her ear, "I do like having my hands full."

She rocked up on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and capturing his mouth in a heated kiss before trailing her lips to his ear. She bit on the lobe gently as she replied softly, "Good. Because I plan to keep them that way."

He growled low in his throat as she nibbled her way down his neck, one of his hands drifting up under her tunic again, sliding over her side and up towards her breastband. His rough fingers had just slid beneath the bottom of the breastband when a knock came at the door.

"Alistair, are you awake? We're going to be leaving right away, as soon as everyone's ready," Aedan's voice drifted through the door.

Ayla groaned, dropping her head to rest on Alistair's chest as he sighed, pulling his hand out from under her tunic. "I swear he does this on purpose," Alistair grumbled, making Ayla laugh in response before he called out, "Give me a few minutes, I just need to finish eating and get my armor on!"

"All right, I'll meet you down in the tavern!" Aedan answered, before they heard his footsteps heading away from the door.

"You finish eating," Ayla said as she climbed off Alistair's lap, "I'll get everything packed and get my own armor on."

Alistair sighed and nodded reluctantly, turning his attention back to the tray she'd brought up for him, while she went to get their packs together. Once they were finally focused, it did not take long to get everything ready to go and to get their armor on, though they were tempted to go back to what they'd been doing before. True to their word, though, they met Aedan down in the tavern as soon as they were ready.

The others were all there, packed and ready to go as they arrived, even Oghren, who looked a little the worse for wear and as though he had not even bothered to bathe since last night. He did not even tease them when he saw them, merely grunted out a greeting before Aedan led them all out of the tavern. They stopped by a few of the merchant stalls on their way out, picking up as many supplies as they could afford and carry, before finally heading for the doors out of Orzammar.

The guards at the gate thanked them as they passed, and at long last, they stepped through the large double doors of Orzammar and back out into the open air for the first time in weeks. Ayla raced forward down the stone ramp, stopping and tilting her face up to the open sky. Though it was a gloomy grey, with light flakes of snow twirling down out of it rather than the rays of sun she'd hoped for, it was still the sky, not stone. And when she inhaled deeply, it was fresh air that she breathed in, not dank cave air. Calm washed over her as she stood there, head tilted up, for a long moment. She could overhear Aedan behind her talking to Oghren, who was expressing a concern about falling off the world with all that sky up there, while she could feel nothing but overwhelming relief to see it.

"Feel better outside, love?" Alistair asked softly from behind her.

She turned to him, smiling. "Much better, thank you. Though I'd forgotten how cold it is out here." She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, shivering.

"Well, it is still winter," he replied, shrugging ruefully, "though we should have missed the worst of it while we were down there. By the time we return to Redcliffe, it should be starting to get warmer again."

"Come on, let's go," Aedan called as he passed by them, Oghren and the others following him down the ramp. "We need to get as far as possible before it grows dark."

She and Alistair fell into place at the back of the party, as they began to make their way back down the mountain path away from Orzammar. Seeing that they were out of earshot of the others, and Morrigan was at the head of the group with Aedan, Ayla said to Alistair, "There is one more thing I need to tell you before we get back to Redcliffe."

"Oh?" He turned to look down at her as they walked, his gaze curious and a little wary. "What's that?"

"Once we return and the Arl is getting ready for us to head to Denerim, I will be going to do a favour for Morrigan," Ayla replied carefully, wondering how much she could get away with _not_ telling Alistair. "Aedan is coming as well. We'll be back before the Arl is ready to leave."

Alistair scowled, suspicion plain on his face. "Just what sort of favour is this? And why can't she go with you? Tell me all of it," he added, obviously noticing her brief hesitation.

Sighing, she gave in; she could tell he wouldn't be happy if he realized she was holding anything back. So she explained everything Morrigan had told her, and finished by telling him that she and Aedan would head to Flemeth's hut in the Wilds to confront her.

"You must be joking!" Alistair exclaimed, then glanced ahead at the others quickly and lowered his voice. "You're going to put your life in danger for that witch?"

"I am going to do a favour for my friend, Morrigan," Ayla corrected him, frowning. "And yes, it could be dangerous, but I have no intention of fighting Flemeth if I can help it. I just want to talk to her, find out the truth."

"And you honestly think Flemeth will just _talk_ to you? Especially if she'd be willing to do something like that to her own daughter?" Alistair demanded sceptically. "Not to mention, that hut of hers is probably surrounded by darkspawn. Just _getting_ there will be dangerous."

"Aedan will be there," Ayla reminded him. "He'll figure out a way to get us around the darkspawn. And yes, I do believe Flemeth will talk to us as long as we go in there with a willingness to listen."

"But Aedan is only just getting a handle on his darkspawn sense," Alistair snapped. "And Flemeth is an incredibly powerful mage. If she does decide to attack, you – ugh!" He scrubbed his hands through his hair, looking frustrated. "Are you really going to do this? For _Morrigan_?"

"Yes," Ayla said firmly, meeting his gaze steadily. "I gave my word to my _friend_ , so yes. I'm going to help her. You don't have to like it; I just wanted to tell you so you would know where I was going when I left."

"Wait . . ." Alistair studied her, frowning, his brows drawn together. "What do you mean, you just wanted to tell me? You're really not going to ask me to go with you?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm the one that made the promise, not you. I didn't want you to feel that you had to come, knowing how you feel about Morrigan."

He sighed, looking ahead to where Morrigan was. "You're right, I don't like her, and I don't trust her." He held up his hand, forestalling the argument she was about to make. " _But_ , I do recognize that she cares about the two of you, at least. So she would not ask you to do this if it wasn't important. I still don't think she's telling us everything she knows, but she wouldn't put the two of you in danger for no reason. Anyway, it doesn't matter how I feel about her. If the two of you are going, then so am I."

"You don't have to feel obligated," Ayla protested. "It is going to be dangerous, and I don't want anything to happen to you because I agreed to this."

"As you told me before, it's not about feeling obligated. If you're going to be in danger, then so am I, and if you want me to be safe, then _you_ have to be safe." He smiled smugly at her as he tossed her earlier words about the Deep Roads back at her. She shook her head and sighed, though she was unable to stifle a smile because he looked so pleased with himself. "Anyway, I do appreciate you not using your stunning ability to turn me into a gibbering idiot to get me to agree to come along."

At this, she couldn't help but laugh. "I have the ability to turn you into a gibbering idiot?"

"Of course you do, and you know it," he replied, looking down at her with a warm, adoring light in his eyes. "With a dress, your words, or sometimes just a smile, you have me at your command."

She could feel her cheeks heat with an unaccustomed blush at his words. Just when _had_ he gotten so good at flattery? "Well, I am truly a lucky woman."

"Oh?" he grinned broadly. "Why is that?"

"Because I captured your heart before you figured out how charming you could be," she answered, and though she was giving him a teasing smile, she was serious. "Otherwise, I'd be beating off other women with a stick."

His cheeks were turning pink, though his gaze was heated as he took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingers lightly. "Maybe I only want to be charming for you."

"See, that's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about," she told him, laughing as she pulled her hand away, though her body felt suffused with warmth at his words. "All those sweet words of yours turn my head."

"Well, as long as it works on you, that's all I need to know," he replied, smiling down at her. His tone went light and teasing as he continued, "Anyway, you wouldn't need a stick to beat off other women. You're quite terrifying enough without it; I'm sure they wouldn't dare come near me. After all, you did an excellent job of scaring off that barmaid in Denerim."

"I suppose I did," she acknowledged, grinning slightly at the memory. "But, seriously, Alistair, you don't have to come," she added. She would honestly much rather have him stay behind in Redcliffe, even though she knew he would be a big help even just getting to Flemeth.

"Yes, I do," he said firmly, the smile dropping off his face, "and I'm coming whether you like it or not. Besides," he went on reluctantly, "I _do_ owe her. She's saved both of our lives before, whatever her motives, so this will give me the chance to repay that debt."

"Thank you," she told him sincerely, impressed with his willingness to help in spite of his feelings. "Well, since that's decided, let's hurry and get back to Redcliffe so we can take care of all of this. We've got a long way to go."

He nodded in agreement, and for the remainder of the day, they focused their energy on the road ahead, and how to get back to Redcliffe as quickly as possible.

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Though they all did their best to make the journey shorter, it was still a very long way from the Frostback Mountains to Redcliffe, and they still needed as much rest as they could get. There was not much they could do to cut down on the time needed to return, and so it took nearly a full four weeks to get back, especially considering the roads had grown increasingly dangerous since they'd left. More darkspawn and bandits than ever before roamed the countryside.

They were ambushed by one such group only a day out from Redcliffe, as they were climbing a hill that circled around a small waterfall, and arrows began to rain down on them from the higher ground above. At first Ayla thought they were just another group of bandits, but the longer they fought, the more she realized they were far more skilled and better equipped than most of those that they ran into. Exchanging a quick look with Zevran, who fought by her side, she could see he thought the same thing.

Still, with the full strength of their party, they were able to defeat them without anyone coming to serious harm, and they reached the top of the hill where Aedan had been fighting the last one, a man in finely crafted plate armor. He had the man down on his knees at swordpoint when Leliana, coming up behind him, said quickly, "Stop. Don't kill him."

Their entire party had crowded around at this point, watching Aedan and the man at his mercy. Aedan glanced quickly over his shoulder at Leliana. "Why shouldn't I kill him?"

"He is no common bandit," Leliana replied, confirming Ayla's suspicions. "None of them were. Their weapons and armor are of fine make, and they are well-trained. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" she demanded of the man. "Who are you?"

Aedan stepped back, sheathing his sword and allowing the man to rise. He was far outnumbered now, and of little threat without the others; Ayla could see in Aedan's face that he was more curious than anything now, as was she. "Answer the question," Aedan prompted.

She glanced quickly at Zevran, murmuring under her breath, "More Crows?"

Zevran frowned thoughtfully, studying the man. "No, I do not believe so. They do not appear to have the same training."

The man had finally gotten to his feet, coughing, and met Aedan's gaze. "Someone who regrets taking you on. Was told it would be an easy job. Kill the little red-haired girl, deal with the others as we pleased."

"What?" Alistair snarled, striding forward from where he'd been standing slightly behind Aedan and seizing the man by the front of his armor with one hand, while reaching for his sword with the other. "Who told you to kill a red-haired girl? _Who?!_ "

Ayla was a little startled at the man's words herself, but then she thought there was no way he could possibly be referring to _her_. Who would even know her well enough to want her dead? She hurried forward next to Alistair, demanding, "Are you talking about me? Or her?" She pointed at Leliana, who was wide-eyed with shock.

"Let him go, Alistair," Aedan said, putting a hand on Alistair's shoulder. "We need to find out what he knows."

"No, not you," the man was saying hastily to Ayla at the same time, as Alistair let go of him with a noise of disgust, sending him stumbling back several steps. "Didn't know there was going to be two girls with red hair. But no, it's her we're after, the archer." He pointed to Leliana.

"You came to kill me?" Leliana asked slowly, coming forward to confront the man. "Who sent you? Why am I wanted dead?"

The man shook his head in response, coughing. By the looks of the dented armor on his chest, Aedan had dealt him quite a few harsh blows already. "I don't get paid to ask why someone wants someone else dead. I just need to know what to do, and where to get my money." He shook his head. "Ha, money! I'll be lucky to get away with my life, it seems. Maybe we could work something out?" He looked hopefully at Aedan, who had gestured to everyone else but Leliana to back up. "You'll like the idea."

Aedan turned to look questioningly at Leliana, who snapped at the man, "Speak quickly."

"I've no real quarrel with you," the man replied quickly. "Wasn't me that wanted you dead, but I know how you can find the one who does."

Aedan sighed heavily, looking at Leliana again, who nodded. "Your life for the information, then," Aedan stated.

"I have some directions written down on how to get to the house. It's in Denerim." The man dug a folded bit of parchment out of his armor, handing it to Aedan. "Here - - it's the best I can do."

"Thank you. Now leave," Leliana said coldly. "I never want to see you again."

"Yes, leave," Aedan agreed, before fixing the man with a deadly glare. "Should you ever attack any of my friends again, however, I won't hold anyone back from killing you this time."

"Don't worry. I'll not trouble you no more," the man replied, hastily turning and going back the way they'd come, one hand clutching at his chest.

"It seems you are in the habit of sparing the lives of assassins, my friend," Zevran said cheerfully to Aedan, clapping him on the back.

Aedan rolled his eyes at the elf. "Only the ones with loose tongues, Zev. Now come on, everybody, let's get moving. We're nearly back to Redcliffe."

Zevran went on ahead with the others; Morrigan, Oghren, Sten and Wynne, who had stayed back as ordered and merely watched the proceedings without comment, while Aedan, Ayla, and Alistair remained behind for the moment with Leliana, who looked shocked and thoughtful.

"I lost my temper when I heard the red-haired part," Alistair whispered sheepishly to Ayla, who smiled. "I thought he was talking about you; it didn't even occur to me that there shouldn't be anybody around who knew you."

She looked up at him fondly; it had actually been rather arousing to see him so protective and angry on her behalf. "That's okay, it startled me for a second too. Besides, it was sweet of you to defend me . . ." she leaned up to whisper in his ear, "and I found it rather sexy, too."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows, his gaze turning heated as he looked down at her, murmuring huskily, "Did you?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, continuing quietly, "and perhaps I will find the chance to sneak into your room at Redcliffe and show you just how sexy I found it." She pushed at him lightly. "Now, go on. I want to talk to Leliana."

He nodded, fixing her with a heated look of promise before he went after the others. Leliana, apparently having finished working through her thoughts, looked up to meet Aedan's gaze as Ayla came up next to him.

"Could it have been that woman you told me about?" Aedan asked her quietly. "The one that drove you away from Orlais?"

Leliana nodded, reluctantly. "It's Marjolaine . . . it has to be."

Ayla remembered the story that Leliana had told her about this Marjolaine, as well. The woman she'd loved who had betrayed her, and was now apparently trying to have her killed, as well. She wondered when Leliana had told Aedan, but she knew he did make a point of trying to talk to everyone in the party as much as he could. He had not done so as often in the Deep Roads, likely due to the strain he and Alistair had been under, but had resumed it more regularly on the way back to Denerim. Leliana must have told him during one of those discussions. "But why now?" Ayla asked her friend. "Haven't you been in Ferelden for some time now?"

Leliana shrugged, looking both distressed and confused. "Maybe someone saw me . . . maybe she's finally found me and wants to finish what she started."

"Do not worry, we won't let her do anything to you," Aedan told her firmly. Ayla nodded, in complete agreement with his statement. Anyone who attacked one of her friends would pay for it.

"She needs to answer for what's she done to me," Leliana stated, looking angrier than Ayla had ever seen her. "When we return to Denerim for the Landsmeet, I would like to seek her out, if we have time."

"We will find some time, I assure you," Aedan told her. "We should hurry and catch up to the others, though."

Leliana nodded, and moved to follow Aedan as he went after the others. Ayla fell into step beside her. "How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"I – I am not sure," Leliana replied slowly, looking somewhat shaken. "I had thought I was done with her, and now, she has sent someone to kill me. Why could she not just leave me alone?"

Ayla shook her head, taking Leliana's hand and squeezing it gently in a show of comfort before releasing it. "I don't know. Maybe she found out where you were, and was afraid you would eventually come to confront her."

"But I would not have," Leliana protested. "I did not ever want to see her or have anything to do with her ever again."

"Yes, but she doesn't know that," Ayla pointed out gently. "She might have thought of what she would do in your place, and decided to eliminate you before you came after her. But don't worry. Like Aedan said, we won't let her do anything to you. We'll stop her before anything else happens."

"Then . . . you will come with me, as well, to confront her?" Leliana asked, looking at her hopefully.

"Of course, I will," Ayla assured her. "I did tell you I would be happy to help you if you ever needed it. Besides, I still owe you for that excellent advice you gave me." She grinned at Leliana, who smiled in return.

"I told you that you did not owe me anything for that," the bard replied, shaking her head. "But if you wish to come along, I . . . would be grateful."

Ayla nodded. "Absolutely. We'll make sure she never sends anyone after you again. Now, let's get to Redcliffe. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can move on to Denerim and confront Marjolaine."

"Yes," Leliana agreed softly. "She will pay for her betrayal."

The two of them hurried to catch up with the others. Ayla was no longer reluctant to go there; instead, she was eager to get it over with, and she felt sure now that everything would work out as planned. She was going to stay with Alistair, and she was going to keep the promises she had made to her friends.


	43. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan, Ayla, Alistair and Zevran reach Flemeth's hut in the Wilds and confront her about her intentions towards Morrigan. Once they are back in Redcliffe, Ayla discovers someone spying on her, and learns that they were sent by the Arl. She decides to confront Arl Eamon, while at the same time, Alistair and Aedan have a sparring match for the inhabitants of Redcliffe castle.

Chapter 42: Confrontations

They had returned to Redcliffe without incident following their run-in with the men Marjolaine had sent after Leliana. After Aedan had informed Arl Eamon that they had fulfilled all their treaties and were ready for the Landsmeet, the Arl had proceeded to send messengers to call the Landsmeet to order. He had then informed them that it would take several days for him to get everything in order to travel to Denerim, and they were welcome to spend their time around Redcliffe as they liked until then.

So, true to their word, Aedan and Ayla had set out for Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds the next morning after their return to Redcliffe, accompanied by Alistair as he had promised, and Zevran as well. He had insisted that he would be bored if he remained behind in Redcliffe. The others, however, had declined to accompany them after hearing what they had planned, and Morrigan, of course, was unable to come along. She had sent a very large stock of healing potions with them just in case, though, and appeared to be quite worried about the outcome.

"You are not intending to actually fight Flemeth, are you?" Ayla asked Aedan quietly as they made their way through the Wilds. It had taken them only two days of hard travel to reach the Wilds, and with the help of the map Morrigan had also given them and the Wardens' ability to sense the darkspawn, they were making their way towards Flemeth's hut without any major issues so far.

"Well, I'd prefer not to," Aedan murmured as they slipped through a stand of trees as quietly as possible, "but I cannot say for sure what will happen. I won't allow Flemeth to do as she pleases, if what Morrigan claims she intends is true."

"No, and I wouldn't expect you to, but –" she glanced quickly at Alistair ahead of them, where he had taken the lead to sense where the darkspawn were so they could try to avoid them, and firmed her resolve. She had to keep him safe. "Morrigan learned her shape-shifting magic from her mother. Who is an even more powerful mage than she is, and somehow got the three of us down from the top of a tower. Meaning whatever forms she is capable of shifting into, may be quite large and very dangerous."

"I am aware of that," Aedan replied, sighing. "We will just have to hope that Morrigan is wrong, or Flemeth is willing to listen to reason."

Ayla let the matter drop after that, though she was still worried. She was certain that Flemeth was a messenger, or at least as close as Thedas had to a messenger, and it was one of the most forbidden things in her world to strike out at one. Not to mention, of course, the danger it would put them in if they did end up fighting her. She was far from certain they had the ability to face Flemeth and win. And the closer they got to the hut, the more her instincts protested, until the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end and goosebumps had erupted on her arms.

They finally spotted the hut in the distance as they came over a low rise. When Ayla squinted, she saw a figure that appeared to be Flemeth standing outside of it, waiting for them. Alistair was falling back to join them, now that they could clearly see the hut, and she poked Aedan in the arm, hissing, "If I'm right about who and what Flemeth is, she knows we're coming. She's probably even taken steps to make sure she will survive in some way, if we do end up fighting her."

"I get it," Aedan snapped in a low voice, looking exasperated, though she could see worry lurking in his eyes as well. "I will not fight her unless she refuses to listen to reason."

"If it comes to that," Alistair whispered, having drawn up next to them, "I'll do my best to stop her magic, but I doubt it will be of much help. Especially without me taking lyrium."

"And I will do whatever I can," Zevran promised, having caught up to them from where he was guarding their rear. "I even brought along a bow, in case long range is needed." He patted the bow and quiver of arrows he had brought along with his swords.

Aedan merely nodded, before picking up the pace and striding towards the hut and Flemeth in the distance, skirting around the clumps of bushes in the way. "Let's get this over with, then."

Ayla hurried after him, Alistair and Zevran on either side of her, and prayed that Flemeth was willing to listen. Otherwise, she didn't know what might happen.

They drew up in front of the hut and stopped a few feet away from Flemeth, who looked at them with such a knowing gaze that Ayla knew she'd been right; they were expected.

"And so you return," the old woman drawled, her eyes locking with Aedan's, who stood out in front. "Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?" She glanced at Ayla behind Aedan. "I must admit that I am surprised to see you listened, as well. I thought you had better . . . instincts, shall we say?"

"I – I do," Ayla stammered, unnerved by the power she could feel lurking behind the old woman's gaze, and the instinctive need she felt to back down. She felt Alistair's hand touch her back, gently, and it relaxed her a fraction. "I just want to find out the truth."

"Yes," Aedan agreed, his voice firm as he drew the witch's attention back to himself. Ayla marvelled that he could sound so unconcerned as he continued, "We came to talk, Flemeth, nothing more."

"Oh?" Flemeth's eyebrows rose as she considered them. "How interesting. Speak, then. You have come far, and I am nothing if not hospitable."

"Morrigan found a tome of yours," Aedan began carefully, "and it led her to believe that you wish to take over her body for your own. We need to know if it is true. If it is, then -"

Flemeth laughed outright, interrupting Aedan completely. "Oh, I do like that. Ahh, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before . . . and even told. Let us skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?"

Aedan was tense and wary now, watching Flemeth closely. Though his hand was not near his sword, Ayla could see in his stance that he was nonetheless ready to draw it at any moment. "It's entirely up to you, Flemeth," he replied at last. "If you intend to harm Morrigan, then I have no choice. If she is wrong, and you do not wish her harm, then we will leave in peace. All I want is the truth, not more of your riddles."

"The truth, he says, as if it were nothing!" Flemeth snapped, looking annoyed.

Ayla quickly stepped forward, shrugging off Alistair's hand when he reached for her. Before Flemeth could say anything further, she asked, " _Are_ you a messenger of the Goddess for this world? If you are, I know you are limited in what you are allowed to reveal. Just tell us, do you plan to hurt Morrigan if we let you go?"

Flemeth stared at her, frozen for a long moment before she laughed again, even more heartily than before. "Am I a messenger? Do I deliver the words of powers absent from this world? What an interesting question. Perhaps I am but a pawn, a vessel. Perhaps we are all pawns and vessels, tools of destiny to be moved around by those with greater power. You would know all about that, would you not?" She fixed Ayla with an intense stare, and she could only nod numbly in response. "We all have our roles to play," she mumbled, seemingly more to herself than anyone else.

Suddenly, Flemeth swung her intense gaze to Aedan, who stood straight, meeting her eyes unflinchingly. The old woman smiled after a long moment of tense silence. "Some of us greater roles than others," she said at last. "Very well, Warden, if you are so concerned about Morrigan, I will give you the straightest answer I can: I will not force her to do anything she does not wish to do."

Aedan's stance relaxed as Ayla breathed out a small sigh of relief. It wasn't, she knew, a complete assurance that Flemeth did not plan to take over Morrigan's body, but if she wasn't going to force Morrigan, that at least meant she didn't plan to bring her to harm, as far as Ayla was concerned. And since Morrigan could refuse to allow Flemeth to take her body, Ayla felt sure that her friend was as safe as she could be, for now.

"If Morrigan wishes my grimoire," Flemeth continued, looking to Aedan, "take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain."

Ayla frowned. Morrigan hadn't mentioned anything about a grimoire to her, merely about the danger to her own life, but Aedan was nodding, looking unsurprised at Flemeth's words. She could hear Alistair snort behind her, as if that was all the confirmation he needed that Morrigan cared as much about power as anything else. Ayla didn't know what to think, but thought maybe her friend believed that she needed the grimoire for protection. She resolved to ask her when they returned, as it now looked like they would manage to do.

"And what happens to you? Will you come after her?" Aedan demanded.

Flemeth merely shrugged. "I go. Perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day . . . or I may simply watch. It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you give an old woman that?"

"I suppose we could do that," Aedan replied slowly. "Do you think she will believe that you are slain?"

"We believe what we want to believe. It's all we ever do," Flemeth responded, smiling in an odd way.

"Then, that is what we will do," Aedan said at last, reaching out to take the key that Flemeth was now offering him. "As long as you agree to leave her alone for now."

Flemeth nodded. "As I said, I will merely observe what she does with her freedom for now." A smirk passed across the old woman's face as she continued, "It's far easier this way, don't you think? The lies are always more fun."

"Oh, I don't know," Zevran chimed in from behind Ayla and Aedan. "Random violence can be fun." When Ayla turned to glare at him, he amended, "But this is good, too."

"Yes, fun," Alistair added dryly from next to the elf. "Tricking Morrigan . . . oh, who I am kidding?" A grin broke out across his face. "That does sound fun. I'm a bad man."

"Alistair!" Ayla exclaimed, torn between amusement, disapproval, and discomfort. She wasn't entirely comfortable with lying to her friend herself, but she highly doubted that Morrigan would accept the explanation for why they hadn't killed Flemeth. This might truly be the easiest way, for now. Alistair merely grinned at her in response, looking completely unashamed.

Aedan turned to glare at them all, silencing them before he turned his attention back to Flemeth, who stated, "The book is inside the hut, with notes and spells enough to make even Morrigan blush with delight. You and I will not meet again. That I guarantee. "

Aedan nodded, giving her his usual courteous bow. "Thank you, Flemeth. I appreciate your willingness to listen to reason."

"Bah," the old woman snorted. "It is easy enough when both sides are willing." She waved her hand dismissively at him as she began to walk away. Aedan went towards the door of the hut, and using the key, disappeared inside.

"Flemeth, wait!" Ayla called, hurrying to catch up to the old woman before she left the area altogether, ignoring Alistair's attempts to pull her back again. "I have a question!"

"You have already heard all you need to of your destiny, have you not?" The old witch demanded as she turned to look at Ayla. "What else could you possibly need to hear?"

"I did," Ayla agreed breathlessly as she stopped before her, "but I just need to know if I might ever be able to see or contact my brother again someday. Do you know of any way?" It was probably too much to hope for, she knew, but if there was any chance she could see Mardin or hear his voice again one day, she had to know.

Flemeth's eyes went unfocused for a moment, as though she were reflecting internally, before she met Ayla's gaze and smiled faintly. "Perhaps. Perhaps one day, you will be able to communicate with him when you least expect it."

Before Ayla could say anything else, or ask Flemeth how to do it, the old witch turned away and began to shapeshift, casting the same spell that Morrigan had so often performed. Following her suddenly alarmed instincts, Ayla scrambled back and as far away from the witch as she could get, just before she shifted into an immense high dragon and flew away, her roar shaking the ground around them. Ayla, staring after her, was _very_ glad they'd been able to talk to her rather than fight.

"Well," Aedan's voice, sounding a little shaky, came from behind her, and she turned to see that he had exited the hut just in time to spot Flemeth's transformation. "It appears you were right about her shape-shifting, Ayla."

"Yes, I suppose I was," Ayla agreed faintly. Though she'd expected Flemeth to be powerful, she had _not_ expected that the old woman was capable of becoming a high dragon, but it certainly explained why she'd felt so nervous about confronting her.

Zevran and Alistair came over to join them, looking equally shocked and relieved. "Well, that random violence would not have been fun," the elf remarked.

Alistair snorted. "That's an understatement. We would have been beyond lucky to make it out alive if we'd actually fought her."

Ayla nodded in agreement, trying to calm her jangled nerves. "It does look like lying was the wiser choice. But . . ." she looked over at Aedan, reluctantly.

"I'm not very comfortable with the idea of lying to her, myself," Aedan admitted. "But I don't think she'll accept that we just let her mother go. So I don't believe we have any other choice than to pretend as though we defeated her. Though I'll do my best not to lie outright, and just tell her Flemeth won't bother her anymore, at least for now."

Wording it that way would make her feel better, Ayla realized. "Let's do it that way," she agreed. "It will make me feel a little better about it, at least."

"Can I count on the three of you to keep what actually happened here just between us?" Aedan asked, tucking the thick, leather-bound tome he'd brought out of the hut into his pack before looking at each of them. They all nodded in response, each pledging their silence in turn. "All right, let's get back to Redcliffe as soon as possible, then. I'd like to rest for a day or so before we set out for Denerim, if we can."

He set out back the way they'd came, and Ayla fell in behind him along with Alistair and Zevran. She couldn't help but feel relieved now, knowing that they had got through this trial unharmed, and better yet, that she might one day be able to talk to her brother again. She headed back towards Redcliffe in better spirits than she'd left it, hoping – though it might be in vain - that everything else would go as well as this had.

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They returned to Redcliffe safely, running into only minor battles on the way back, and much to Ayla's relief, as well as Aedan's, Morrigan was only too happy to accept their story that her mother would not bother her anymore. So happy, in fact, that she didn't seem even remotely suspicious about the fact that neither of them ever actually stated that Flemeth was dead. She thanked them both profusely, enough that Ayla felt guilty, until she remembered how easily they could have died fighting Flemeth – how easily _Alistair_ could have died over a favour _she_ had agreed to. She felt much less guilty after that, and was able to act normally around Morrigan for the remainder of their stay at Redcliffe.

Fortunately, they had gotten back in enough time that they still had a couple of days before Arl Eamon would be ready to leave for Denerim. Ayla was as equally happy as the others to take the time to relax, though she did her best to stay out of the Arl's way, not wanting to see the disapproval in his eyes she was sure she would find. To that end, she and Alistair continued to maintain the pretense that they slept in separate rooms, although she still snuck into his room after everyone had gone to bed, and so far, it seemed as though the Arl was either none the wiser or didn't care.

Today, which was the last day before they left for Denerim, she decided to go find Bodahn outside the castle walls in the village. He had not accompanied them to Orzammar, but they had run across him on the road back to Redcliffe, and he had continued to follow them for the most part, occasionally stopping off at other villages to sell his wares or pick up supplies before returning to them. She had asked him a couple of weeks ago to see if he could procure a carved statuette for her to give to Alistair. She'd noticed him admiring statuettes at every shop and merchant's stall they'd seen them at, and she wanted to give him a gift, as she'd realized she had yet to get one for him.

It was on the way out of the castle that she began to get the distinct feeling someone was following her. She started listening more carefully, and sure enough, it sounded like someone was behind her, keeping a certain distance between them, but still never losing sight of her. A shift in the wind brought the scent of an unfamiliar man to her nose, and she frowned. Perhaps she was just being paranoid; it could be that someone was heading to the village, the same as she was, but the tingling along her spine suggested otherwise. She decided to wait, however, and see if the man continued to follow her.

She went to the village and found Bodahn and his cart, where she was pleased to find that he'd picked up a small statuette of a stone warrior, which she was sure would be perfect. She paid him for the statuette, as well as several more supplies that she'd stocked up on for the journey, though she left those behind at the cart, before she began to head back through the village to the castle. She'd spotted the man watching her from a distance while she talked to Bodahn; he was dressed inconspicuously in homespun brown garments, making it appear as though he was a common villager, but she could tell by the way he carried himself that he had spent a great deal of time on the battlefield. And now that she was on the move again, he'd gone back to following her at a discreet distance.

She sighed, having a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly why he was following her and who had put him up to it. She slipped quickly around the corner of a house and waited in the shadows along its wall for him to follow. Sure enough, the man came around the corner and, not seeing her in the shadows, began to walk right past her. She quietly drew two of her daggers as he walked past, and in a flurry of movement, had him pinned against the wall of the house, one dagger at the point of his throat, the other against his leg, high up on his thigh in an place that was as equally lethal to strike at as a neck. If he attempted to move or use his strength against her, it would be a simple matter for her to plunge both daggers in, and she knew by the slight widening of his eyes that he realized the position he was in.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded, glaring at him.

The man stared at her, his eyes wide in surprise, though there was little fear, further confirming her suspicion that he wasn't a common villager. Though he did his best to pretend as though he was afraid, stammering, "I – I don't know what you're talking about. I – I was just –"

"Don't lie to me," she snarled, pressing the points of both daggers into his skin just enough to cause a small amount of blood to well up. The man sucked in a breath as she continued, "I don't take kindly to being lied to. You've been following me since I left the castle. Why? And if you lie again, I'll make you regret it." She leaned just a fraction more on both daggers, and he winced.

"Okay, okay," the man conceded, holding up both his hands defensively. "You're right, I was following you. I was asked to keep an eye on you whenever you went anywhere alone or without –" he suddenly halted, his mouth snapping shut.

"Go on," she pressed, digging in the daggers a little deeper yet. "You were about to say 'without Alistair', weren't you?"

The man sighed in defeat. "Yes. If you went anywhere alone or without him, I was ordered to follow you and discover everything you did while you were gone, and then report back."

"Report – back – to – who?" she said each word slowly, clearly, with thinly veiled anger under tight control, though she already knew perfectly well what the answer was, and was only seeking verification.

The man scowled, shaking his head. "I'm not going to –"

"Not going to tell me?" she interrupted, feeling her fury mount. She pressed the dagger against his thigh just a little bit more and twisted it sharply, causing his breath to hiss out in pain as blood trickled down his leg. "You may want to reconsider your answer before I get truly angry."

He stared stubbornly at her, but as she continued to twist the dagger deeper and deeper into his leg, he finally gasped out, "Fine, I'll tell you." She let up the pressure, though not enough to let him escape. "It was the Arl. Arl Eamon asked me to follow you."

"Thank you," she replied, feeling both satisfied that her suspicion was confirmed, and strangely hollow at the same time. "Now, I'm going to let you go. If I find you following me again – and trust me, I will if you try it – I will not be quite so merciful. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the man replied shortly, looking thoroughly humiliated, and, she was pleased to note, slightly terrified. She pulled the daggers away, taking a few steps back, although she watched him carefully for any sign that he was going to try to fight. He didn't, however, merely turned away from her and began heading back to the castle, limping slightly as he went.

It was time she talked to the Arl, she decided as she cleaned her daggers, tucking them away, and headed towards the castle herself. It was clear he hadn't given up on his attempt to split her and Alistair apart; he'd obviously hoped to find something he could use against her to get Alistair to leave her. What he'd hoped to find, she had no idea. Some evidence of betrayal, either romantically or otherwise, she suspected, or some evidence that she didn't love Alistair. He wouldn't have found anything, of course, but she wasn't about to risk a spy of his finding out that Alistair had no intention of becoming king before they were ready for the Arl to know. So it was time she confronted him and got him to stop his scheming.

She heard the sound of cheering as she approached the castle gates, and as she stepped through them, she saw why. A crowd comprised of Redcliffe's knights and servants, as well as the other members of their party, was gathered around the practice yard inside the gates, watching Alistair and Aedan spar. Though they were fighting with blunted tourney swords, they were still in full armor and she could tell they were going all out against each other. As she paused for a moment to watch, Aedan swung his sword around in a lethal arc at Alistair's head. Alistair ducked just underneath the swing, bringing his shield up enough to deflect the sword above him as he slipped inside Aedan's reach and swung his own sword at the back of Aedan's leg, knocking him flat on his back.

Before Alistair could bring his sword down to take advantage of the manoeuvre, however, Aedan had rolled out of the way and sprung back to his feet. In the next second, he'd brought his sword around against Alistair's back, sending him stumbling forward. As the crowd roared its approval, Alistair was equally quick to recover, spinning back around and catching Aedan's next blow on his shield, digging in and throwing his weight behind the block to send Aedan back a couple of steps. The fight continued on in much the same manner, as the two traded blows with rapid precision to the admiration of the crowd watching.

And Ayla's admiration, too, of course. There were few things that fired her blood more than a well-fought battle, whether she was participating in it herself or not. And her mate cut an awfully fine figure on the battlefield, she couldn't help but notice. She'd never had the time to just watch him fight before, and though she knew he was skilled, it wasn't the same as actually being able to see the deadly grace and strength with which he fought. She could feel the fire racing through her veins, her body aching with longing to drag her handsome warrior away and engage him in an entirely different type of sparring.

But now wasn't the time, she reminded herself, giving her head a firm shake. She didn't see the Arl anywhere in the crowd watching, which meant this was the perfect opportunity to go talk to him, while the majority of the castle was distracted. She tore herself away from the fight with reluctance, weaving her way through the crowd and up the steps, heading into the castle.

She knew exactly what Alistair and Aedan were up to, she thought as she made her way through the halls of the castle. Besides practicing for their own sake, they were also showing those following them just what the Wardens were capable of and just how skilled they were in battle. It was a way to boost the morale of those who were about to follow them against the darkspawn, and to boost their confidence in the Wardens who were about to lead them in battle. It was really an excellent move, and she wondered which of them had come up with it – and who was going to win. She regretted not getting to stay and watch.

But she had something more important to do right now. She questioned one of the servants and found out the Arl was in his study. She made her way there with the directions given, and knocked on the closed door when she reached it.

"Enter," the Arl called from inside, no doubt expecting a servant or one of his knights.

She opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind her. The Arl looked up as she did so, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise as a quick frown passed over his face, before his expression rapidly changed to one of blank courtesy. She couldn't help but admire the quick switch. "You are Ayla, yes? One of Alistair's companions? Do you have some business with me?"

She almost snorted, but managed to cover it up. As if he didn't know exactly who she was and what she was likely to be doing here. "Yes, I do have some business with you. I thought it was long past time you and I discussed a few things." She watched his eyes narrow, guessing he was probably annoyed she hadn't addressed him properly. She knew the proper courtesies of nobility as well as Aedan did, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to address him as "my lord" when in her own land, she would technically outrank him, as both a Lieutenant of the Order and a daughter of the Clan of Swords.

"Oh? And what sort of business might I have to discuss with a mercenary?" the Arl asked coolly, putting special emphasis on the last bit.

She sighed, sitting herself down in the chair across from him without asking, leaning back comfortably. "I'm not much for beating around the bush, so I'll just go ahead and say it. I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to interfere with my relationship with Alistair, particularly since you gave him your word that you wouldn't."

The Arl's eyebrows shot up, and he gaped at her for a second before he recovered himself. "I am quite certain I do not know what you are talking about."

"I am talking about when you asked Zevran to try to get me into a compromising position with him so Alistair could find out," Ayla responded evenly, keeping her gaze level with the Arl's and taking a small measure of satisfaction from the flash of surprise she saw there. "And, most recently, the man you sent to follow me around when I go somewhere without Alistair. I presume you were trying to find something else to use against me since Zevran refused your offer."

Arl Eamon scowled at her, folding his hands carefully on the desk. "I do not take kindly to slander and accusations, I'll have you know."

Ayla struggled to control her temper, knowing that getting angry with the Arl would only make the situation worse. "And I do not take kindly being lied to," she stated icily, "as I informed your spy a few minutes ago. At any rate, you can keep pretending you don't know what I'm talking about, but I will inform you that if I find anyone else following me, or any of the others, I will not hold back again."

The Arl regarded her expressionlessly for a long moment before he said, "And just what makes you think I hired this person you claim was following you?"

"Because he told me you did," she replied sweetly, "after a little . . . persuading." She casually spun her dagger around in her hand, leaving little doubt as to how she'd gotten her answer.

"Very well," Arl Eamon conceded, "perhaps I have been taking some measures against your relationship. However, it is only in Alistair's best interests that I have done so. It will be very difficult for him if he continues to believe that he is in love with you, especially once he takes the throne and weds another woman." Ayla clenched her hand tightly around the hilt of her dagger until it pained her, at the thought of Alistair, _her mate_ , marrying someone else. The Arl went on as though he hadn't noticed, "It would be best if he is broken free of this . . . illusion before then. You must know you won't get to be queen, so what would it take to get you to back away? Would you like money, or a position of power, or –"

"Allow me to save you some time," she interrupted him, speaking through gritted teeth as she tried her very best to manage her temper. "There is _nothing_ – I'll repeat this so you might understand – _nothing_ – you can offer me, or say or do, to get me to leave Alistair. I will only ever leave him if _he_ tells me to do so."

"I think you're underestimating just how much money I can provide –" the Arl began, but Ayla cut him off when she slammed her dagger, point-first, down into the desk.

"Are you actively not listening to me?" she asked, her voice deadly quiet. "You could provide me with all the riches in Thedas and I wouldn't leave him. I know you think I'm nothing but a gold-digging mercenary, but I do truly love him. And of the two of us here, you are the one acting with the least nobility right now as you try to break your word to Alistair. It is only because I think you truly believe you're acting in his best interest in the long run that I have not told him what you've been trying to do. If you continue, however, I will have no choice but to shatter his illusion of _you_ as someone who actually cares about him."

"How dare you?!" Arl Eamon demanded, getting to his feet, his face twisting in rage. "I do care about him, and I _am_ acting in his best interests, as I have all along! It is you that is trying to use him –"

" _I'm_ trying to use him?!" she snarled, getting to her own feet as well as she slammed her hands down on the desk. "You're the one who's trying to use him for your own ambition, so you can be the power behind the throne! After all, who else would Alistair turn to for advice, once he's all alone on the throne, but the man who raised him – if you could call it that?! Did you have his best interests in mind when you tried to quash any self-confidence he might have ever had, by explaining over and over to him that he was nothing but a bastard? Did you have his best interests in mind when you made him sleep in the stables, when you sent him away from the only home he'd ever known to be raised in the Chantry because your wife didn't approve of him?! When you made him feel inferior his entire life, before you decided to try to force him into a role that _you_ made sure he was unprepared for?!"

The Arl gaped at her wordlessly, the rage draining off his face until he suddenly looked old and weary. "Is that – is that truly what he thinks of me?" he asked softly, as he sank down into his chair.

"No," Ayla muttered, feeling suddenly tired herself as her temper left her and she sank back into her own chair. "That's what he _should_ think of you, but he's much too good of a man for thoughts like that to ever occur to him. Instead, he thinks he owes you – so much so that he was bending over backwards trying to save you and your family, to gain your approval. You mean a lot to him, and he wouldn't want to believe that you would try to go against your word like this. And I don't want to have to tell him that you did."

Arl Eamon studied her for a long moment, before a faint smile came over his face. "It appears I have misjudged you. Having heard your passionate defense of him and seeing how reluctant you are to hurt him with what I've done – even when it would be to your benefit – it seems that you do truly love him, after all." He sighed, a pained expression coming over his face. "Which is why I am sorry to say that he still cannot be with you when he becomes king. The Landsmeet would not allow it."

_Except he's never going to become king_ , Ayla thought, but she knew that Aedan wasn't ready for that part of the plan to be revealed yet. He didn't want the Arl to know until after he'd spoken to Anora, and they could be sure that she would take the throne without her father, leaving Alistair free to do as he liked. So she merely said, "I know that. All I am asking is for you to hold to the original agreement. Allow us to be together until he becomes king, without interfering. If you agree to do that, I won't tell him anything that happened. But, if I find any more evidence of you trying to interfere . . ."

The Arl nodded. "I understand. Very well, if that is what you both wish, I will leave things alone until Alistair becomes king. At which time, he will have to hold to his end of the agreement."

Ayla merely nodded in response, not trusting herself to actually say anything in reply. She was fairly sure if she did, she'd end up slipping and saying something like "if that happens" which would only make the Arl suspicious. "I will take my leave, then," she said quietly, standing up and taking her dagger out of the desk before she turned to leave.

She'd nearly reached the door when the Arl said softly, "You'll take care of him, won't you? During the battles with the darkspawn and whatever else you encounter?"

"You don't even have to ask," she replied, before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her. She sighed heavily as she walked down the hallway, feeling suddenly exhausted. That encounter had also ended up going far better than she had expected, but it had been emotionally draining. And now she couldn't even hate the Arl like she'd wanted to, but was instead, feeling a bit of reluctant respect for him. She sincerely hoped he wasn't too angry with Alistair once he found out what they actually intended to do, and that he would eventually forgive them for it.

She decided to head down to the practice yard and see if the fight was still going on. It might be just the thing she needed to lift her spirits after her confrontation with the Arl. She made her way back through the hallways and out the main doors, discovering that she wasn't too late to see the end after all. The crowd was still gathered around, cheering and shouting, and she made her way down to the sidelines, as close as she could get, to watch.

They weren't moving as rapidly as they had when she'd passed through earlier, and were starting to show signs of tiring, but were still fighting hard as they continued to trade blows. As she watched, Aedan nearly knocked Alistair's feet out from under him, but Alistair managed to regain his balance after only a stumble or two, lashing out at Aedan with his shield again.

She'd ended up between Zevran and Sten on the sidelines, and the elf grinned at her. "So, do you believe your Warden will end up the victor, my dear?"

She smiled in answer, feeling better already as she watched the two Wardens spar, her blood starting to fire up again. "They are well-matched, but yes, I believe Alistair will win out in the end."

Sten grunted in agreement from next to her. "It is the swords they use. The greatsword is carrying more weight than he is used to." He nodded at Aedan. "I do not see why they feel the need to use them in the first place."

Ayla had seen the same thing; the blunted swords they used were not their own, but the ones the Arl's knights had on hand for training, and the greatsword was slightly larger and heavier than the one that Aedan normally used. As a result, his reaction time was slowing and his swings were getting just a bit clumsier. Even so, she felt that Alistair would win anyway, though it would likely take a good deal longer if Aedan had a better sword. As skilled as Aedan was, he hadn't been fighting in serious battles for as long as Alistair had, and that slight edge of experience in life-or-death fighting would have given Alistair the advantage anyway, she felt sure.

"It's customary to use them here when you are only fighting for practice," she told Sten. "So that they don't accidentally end up seriously injuring or killing one another."

The qunari snorted. "We have never used blunted swords in training fights. If a qunari ended up dying because of it, it would merely show that he is not skilled enough. The Wardens are not so unskilled that they require such measures."

Ayla smiled, exchanging an incredulous look with Zevran. It was the closest thing either of them had ever heard to a compliment coming out of the qunari's mouth, although she personally agreed with Sten's assessment. Neither Warden had come close to delivering an accidental fatal blow, in spite of going all out against one another.

"Truer words were never spoken, my friend," Zevran declared. "Alas, the Wardens must follow the rules set out by other mere mortals, so as not to intimidate them too greatly."

Sten merely grunted in answer to that, and Ayla stifled a laugh, impressed that Zevran had come up with a satisfactory answer for the qunari so easily. She turned her attention back to the fight, just in time to see Aedan swing hard at Alistair's chest. Alistair dodged backward, just barely out of range, and the instant the greatsword had swung past, stepped right up to Aedan and bashed his side full-on with his shield, throwing the whole weight of his body behind it, knocking Aedan clean off his feet and sending his sword spinning away. In the next instant, before Aedan had the chance to roll away, Alistair had stepped over him and pressed the blunted tip of his sword to his throat. "Do you yield?" Alistair demanded, sounding slightly breathless.

Aedan held up his hands and grinned wryly. "I yield," he replied, "you defeated me fair and square."

Alistair grinned, tossing his sword aside, before reaching down and pulling Aedan to his feet. "I don't know about that, you needed a better sword."

Aedan was shaking his head, but Ayla couldn't hear what he said in response to that, as the cheers had grown too loud. The crowd surged forward, and the knights surrounded the Wardens, clapping them on the back, congratulating Alistair, who was grinning and blushing at the attention, and exclaiming over their favourite parts of the fight to both Wardens. Most of the rest of the crowd began to slowly disperse, going back to their regular business, though Ayla could overhear snatches of conversation about the fight as they went.

Most of the men that had been in the crowd were saying similar things to the knights still gathered around the two Wardens; how well they'd fought, what moves and counter-moves they'd been most impressed by, or other such things. She could hear the women, however, saying how brave and handsome both Wardens were, how fine they looked in their armor, how thrilling the fight had been. She almost felt like growling at two of the women who were being especially vocal in their praise for Alistair, glancing over their shoulders at him and giggling. She decided she had a much better idea, though.

She began to weave her way towards Alistair through the knights surrounding him, noticing the knowing look and wink Zevran gave her as she went. When she reached Alistair, she slipped between the two knights standing directly in front of him. "Excuse me, good sers, but I need to borrow your champion for a moment," she told them.

"Ayla?" Alistair asked, looking down at her in surprise, though she could see heat starting to flare up in his eyes as soon as his gaze landed on her. "Were you watching?"

"I got to see the end," she replied in a low voice, feeling the fire in her blood and the aching longing in her body rising to a fever pitch in response to the look he was now giving her. "So I thought I'd give a prize to the victor."

She hooked her hand in the collar of his plate armor, and yanked him down to her level to claim his mouth in a heated, demanding kiss. He was frozen for a second before he growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through her deliciously as his arms went around her and hauled her close, his tongue sweeping through her mouth with raw, urgent need. It was only the whistles of the knights still there that brought them both back to reality; in all honesty, Ayla had been fully ready to stake her claim right there without a care for who saw, but Alistair pulled back, releasing her, his eyes nearly black with lust.

"Say, would you give us a prize like that if we won a fight?" one of the knights asked from behind her. Alistair scowled, looking like he was about to start a far less friendly fight, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him and turned to the knight.

"I might consider it," she told him sweetly, "but only if you win in a fight against _him_. Do you want to try it?"

She nearly laughed when the knight's eyes shot to Alistair, who she knew would be glaring murderously at him, and he rapidly shook his head. "Ah, no, that's quite all right, my lady. We'll just . . . we'll be going now."

The remaining knights beat a hasty retreat, leaving only their party in the center of the training yard, and Ayla was pleased to note that the women who had been talking about Alistair were nowhere to be seen, either. She only hoped they'd gotten a good eyeful and realized he was not available. She tried to cool the fire in her body as much as possible now that her goal was accomplished, knowing this was not the time to do what she very much wanted to.

"I thought we were being more discreet here in Redcliffe?" Alistair asked her, though he was smiling. She could see that he was struggling to bring himself under control as well, taking deep breaths as the lust slowly faded from his eyes.

She could overhear Aedan asking Morrigan if he got a consolation prize as she innocently replied, "What do you mean? That _was_ discreet, I only kissed you." She didn't think, after the talk they'd had, that the Arl would bother to lecture Alistair over such a thing as a kiss, no matter who had seen. She felt that they had finally come to an understanding and that the Arl would truly leave them alone now until the Landsmeet. Unless, of course, they went completely overboard. With that in mind, she intended to take full advantage of whatever she thought they could get away with.

"Yes, but it was front of half of the castle staff and all of the knights," Alistair pointed out dryly. "In case you didn't notice."

"Oh, she did, my Warden friend," Zevran assured him cheerfully. "In fact, I think that was rather the point, to make sure that the women in the castle all saw."

"Thanks for the help, Zev," Ayla murmured to the elf, who smirked at her in reply.

"Oh, is that what it was about?" Alistair asked, a smug smile spreading over his face. "You were jealous?"

"I was merely showing them that you weren't available," Ayla replied airily, ignoring Zevran's chuckle. "That's all."

"Oh, of course," Alistair replied, striving for a sober tone, though his grin was still firmly in place. He slipped an arm around her waist, steering her back towards the door. "Well, shall we go get something to eat, now that they all know that?"

"Yes, let's," she agreed, following him towards the door, as the rest of their party followed behind. She felt a great deal better now, her emotional exhaustion from earlier completely gone. Everything was working out better than she had ever expected since returning to Redcliffe, and she felt it had to be a good sign, an indication that things would continue on that path. And one day soon, she would be able to claim Alistair as her mate for everyone to see. All they needed to do was get through the Landsmeet first.


	44. Wishing for Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party finally arrives at Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim for the Landsmeet, only to be confronted by Loghain almost immediately, accompanied by Arl Howe. Aedan nearly loses his temper and attacks Howe during the meeting, only barely keeping his control as Loghain and Eamon speak. Later that night, while Ayla and Alistair are eating supper together, Aedan comes to their room informing them that Queen Anora's maid has come to request their help in getting Anora away from Arl Howe. The party leaves immediately to break into Howe's estate.

Chapter 43: Wishing for Vengeance

It had taken them nearly a month to get to Denerim, instead of the three weeks that it should have. Travelling with the Arl and his entourage had slowed them down considerably, having to both wait for the lumbering wagons transporting half his household and to keep everyone safe as they went. The Arl had left some of his knights and servants behind with Teagan at Redcliffe, but had still brought the majority of his household along, including the supplies needed to feed them, which had made for a tough journey.

It had been more difficult than Alistair had expected it would be; the amount of roving bands of darkspawn attacking was increasing, even this far away from the bulk of the horde, which at the moment, was still remaining south of Redcliffe. Keeping such a large group safe from surprise attacks when only he and Aedan were capable of sensing the darkspawn before they ambushed had been daunting. There had been more than a few close calls, when they had nearly lost one or another of the knights guarding the outskirts of the group before they'd gotten there to help.

Fortunately, though, in spite of the close calls, they managed to get the Arl and all of his men to Denerim safely. No one had died, but there had been several injuries, and Morrigan and Wynne had been kept busy healing the Arl's knights. Which was probably for the best, anyway, as it had kept Morrigan from revealing her less acceptable mage talents to the Arl and his men. Ayla, as well, had been ordered by Aedan not to reveal her powers to ensure that no one became frightened or suspicious, and she had agreed, reluctantly, not shifting once on the way here.

Though of course, this had only made the journey that much more difficult, as their party couldn't fight to full effectiveness with two of their members unable to fully utilize their talents. The entire journey had been exhausting, and Alistair should have been incredibly relieved to see the walls of Denerim appear in the distance.

And in some ways, he was; he was relieved to be there safely with everyone and relieved that they were finally able to attend the Landsmeet and answer the question of his nebulous future. But he was also terrified. What would he do if the answer wasn't the one he wanted? What would he do if Aedan's plan fell through and Anora wouldn't help them?

He had told Ayla that he was going to stay with her no matter what, and he did mean to keep that promise, but he had no idea how to go about it if things didn't go to plan. Certainly, no one could force him to become king, but what would be the alternative if neither he nor Anora took the throne? He wasn't sure what would happen then, and the anxiety that question evoked was cutting through his relief, dampening it, as they all filed through the gates into Denerim behind the Arl and his men.

Almost as though she sensed how he was feeling, Ayla sidled up next to him, looping her arm through his. "Don't worry," she said softly. "It will all work out in the end."

He looked down at her in surprise. "What makes you say that?" he asked, though he desperately wanted to believe it himself.

"It's just a feeling I have," she replied, casting a dazzling smile up at him. "I have faith that we will figure it out. Don't you?"

The way she smiled at him, her eyes shining with belief and love for him, relaxed him in a way nothing else could. He was overthinking this, he realized. There was no point in agonizing over what would happen if Aedan's plan failed before he even knew if it would or not. If, for some reason, Aedan couldn't convince Anora, he could simply worry about it then. Between all of them, surely they could think of some alternative.

He took a deep breath and smiled back at Ayla, drawing her closer. "Yes, we will." He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, uncaring of who saw. The Arl had been surprisingly lenient about their relationship on the way here, and Ayla seemed to have gotten over any concern she felt about avoiding him on their journey.

Though they hadn't necessarily flaunted their relationship, they hadn't taken any special pains to hide it, either, aside from posting separate tents. As often as not, though, they'd still slipped into one another's tents later on throughout the night. They had only slept together, however, not making love for fear they might be too loud and someone would overhear. It was one thing for the others in their party to overhear by accident once or twice, but another thing entirely to have a group of strangers hear what they did together in private. Besides, they both had been quite busy maintaining watches and keeping the camp safe, leaving little time or energy for anything else.

Still, in spite of that concession, Alistair doubted there was anyone in the camp who didn't know they were together, particularly after Ayla had kissed him for everyone to see in the courtyard following his spar with Aedan. Something had happened that day to put her at ease, he was sure, because prior to that she'd refused to even stand close to him during that stay at Redcliffe. She wouldn't tell him what had occurred, though, merely that she and the Arl had spoken and come to some sort of understanding. Not that he minded, of course; he was relieved that they didn't have to pretend, that he was free to touch her or kiss her as he liked, that all the knights knew she was his. He only hoped it would remain that way.

There was warmth in her eyes as he drew back, and unable to resist, he planted an equally quick kiss on her lips before pulling away and leading her after the others towards the Arl's estate in Denerim.

It was only a few minutes later that they passed through the gates of the estate into the small, dusty courtyard; Arl Eamon was already calling out directions to the knights to get set up in the barracks and begin their watch schedules, while the servants hurried into the estate to begin getting the rooms and the evening meal ready, as it was late in the afternoon already, the air starting to cool as the sun went down. It had been fairly warm, good weather on the way here, fortunately, but it was only early spring and the nights would often get cold still.

As the Arl was finishing with his instructions, Aedan approached him, and Alistair and Ayla reached them in time to overhear Arl Eamon saying, "If we defeat Loghain here, the rest of the nation will follow us. By calling the Landsmeet, I've struck the first blow. The advantage, for the moment, is ours. He will have little choice but to show himself, to oppose us directly. He will strike back at us. The only question that remains is how soon?"

"I don't expect he will waste much time," Aedan replied grimly. "He likely knew we were here the moment we entered the city, if not before. We should be prepared to meet him as soon as possible."

The Arl nodded. "I agree. The servants were ordered to make your rooms ready immediately, as well as the main hall so that we might have a place to meet with him. I would suggest you and Alistair get cleaned up right away, in case you need to join me in the hall tonight. The rest of your party may do as they like in the meantime." His gaze passed briefly over Ayla, standing next to Alistair, but his expression didn't change, nor did he comment on her presence.

Alistair frowned. "You want me to be there as well?" He'd really rather not see or meet Loghain up close; he'd never outright attacked anyone in his life before, but he couldn't be certain that he could see the man responsible for the death of Duncan and his Warden brothers and _not_ do something.

"Yes, Alistair, I expect you to be there," Arl Eamon replied firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "This Landsmeet is about you, after all, and I want Loghain to see the true heir with his own eyes."

Without waiting to hear a response, the Arl turned and headed into the estate. Alistair exchanged a glance with Aedan, who nodded. "You might as well be there." He lowered his voice before continuing, "We have to keep doing as the Arl says in regards to the Landsmeet until we're ready, remember?"

"I know." Alistair blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm just not certain I can be so close to Loghain without wanting to make him pay."

"Think about something else," Ayla suggested. "And don't bring your sword with you. A quick death is too easy for him, anyway."

"She's right," Aedan agreed. "We need to let all of Denerim know about what he's done, make sure that he's no longer seen as the hero general. _That_ is the way we will make him pay."

Alistair nodded, slowly. The Wardens did deserve to have the true story of what had happened to them brought out, for everyone in the Landsmeet to hear. If he were to attack Loghain now, it was unlikely that anyone would listen to what they had to say later. He would simply have to do his best not to think of what had happened when he was finally face-to-face with him. "All right, let's go get ready," he replied reluctantly.

Aedan turned and headed towards the large double doors, gesturing for the others to follow, telling them they could relax as they pleased until they knew what the next step was going to be. Alistair went to follow, but Ayla grabbed his arm, halting him. He turned to look at her, raising a brow in question.

"I'm going to go look around a bit," she told him, gesturing to the gates that led out to the city. "No one knows who I am, and I want to find out what people are saying around the city about the Landsmeet and everything else that's going on. I'll be back soon."

Alistair stared at her wordlessly for a moment. It would be a good idea to find out as much information as they possibly could, and yet he couldn't help but be worried about the thought of her being out there alone. Denerim wasn't always the safest of places, even for someone who could take care of themselves. But he knew from experience how well she'd react to him trying to convince her not to go, so he simply said, "Be careful, please."

She gave him a wry smile, as though she guessed what he really wanted to say, before replying, "Of course I will. I'll be back before you know it."

He watched her as she slipped through the gate, sincerely hoping that she was right, before he turned and went into the estate to prepare for the possible meeting with Loghain.

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He was almost completely dressed following the bath that had been prepared for him, pulling the tunic over his head, when Ayla burst into his room, breathless. "Alistair!" she gasped.

"What is it?" he demanded, catching her by the arms, anxious worry tearing through him as he looked her over for wounds. "Did something happen to you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she shook her head in response, continuing hastily, "but Loghain's on his way here. At least, I assume it was him, from what everyone was saying as I saw him heading through the market. There were two people with him – one was an older man – I overheard someone call him Howe."

"Andraste's ass!" Alistair cursed, immediately knowing why she'd raced back here. Apparently it wasn't him coming face-to-face with Loghain they had to worry about after all. It was what would happen when Aedan saw Rendon Howe.

Normally Alistair wouldn't be concerned about Aedan losing his temper – his Warden brother was usually the epitome of level-headed. But Alistair had seen him lose his head over just the mention of Howe's name before, and he highly doubted Aedan would be able to hold back upon seeing the man himself. At least, not without some kind of advance warning.

"Come on," he told Ayla, heading for the door. "We have to warn him before they get here."

They hurried over to Aedan's room, a few doors down from Alistair's, only briefly pausing to knock on the door and hear Aedan's reply to come in before entering.

Aedan frowned, looking at them with raised brows as they closed the door behind them. He, too, was dressed in breeches and a tunic, rather than armor, as he'd told Alistair it would be best if they looked to be casually dressed, as opposed to ready for battle. "What's going on?"

"Loghain is already on his way here, and . . ." Alistair hesitated, unsure if he should just blurt it right out.

"I saw a man with him that one of the people in the crowd called Howe," Ayla finished quietly, saving Alistair the trouble of deciding.

The slight confusion on Aedan's face quickly morphed into black anger, exactly as Alistair had feared. He clenched his fists, working his jaw, before he abruptly turned and stalked over to his armor and sword in the corner of the room.

"Aedan, stop! You can't just kill him in front of everyone!" Alistair exclaimed.

Aedan froze, before he whirled around and glared at him. "Why not?" he snarled. "That lying, back-stabbing filth killed my father, my mother, my nephew – _**everyone**_!"

"I know you want revenge," Ayla said softly, holding up her hands in a placating fashion when Aedan turned to glare at her. "And I swear to you, we will help you get it. But it needs to be done somewhere else – not where everyone can see and know that it was you. If you want to do it right – if you want to make him suffer – we need to do it quietly."

Alistair shot a surprised look at her, slightly disturbed at what she was saying, but Aedan appeared to at least be listening, so he added quickly, "We also have to look like we're the level-headed ones, here. No one at the Landsmeet is going to listen to us if we attack people with no warning. We have to look like the better option, right? Remember the plan, Aedan."

Aedan stared at them both for a long moment, clearly struggling with his temper, his fists clenching and unclenching, before he finally let out a string of vicious, inventive curses. When he was finished with that, he picked up a vase and flung it at the wall behind him, where it shattered into dozens of pieces, water and flowers spraying everywhere. "You're right," he growled at last, his eyes still a blazing fury of silver. "But I _will_ kill him later, I promise you that."

"Okay," Alistair agreed, nodding. He wasn't sure he necessarily agreed with the suffering that Ayla had been talking about, but neither was he going to stand in Aedan's way if that was what he wanted. "As long as you can promise to keep it together when we go to meet him now, in public."

"I can't promise I'm not going to say something," Aedan gritted out through clenched teeth, "but I won't attack him."

"That's fair," Ayla replied, glancing quickly at the door behind them. "That's all anyone could ask for. Someone's coming to the door; they've likely arrived now."

Just as she said it, a knock sounded on the door, and a servant called out, "My lord Aedan? The Arl requests your presence in the main hall – he says that the guests have arrived. I was also sent to look for Master Alistair, but he is not in his room –"

Aedan opened the door before she'd finished. "He's here with me. We'll head there right away."

The maid on the other side, a young woman with short, blonde hair, bobbed a curtsy, though Alistair caught the slight widening of her blue eyes as she saw the shattered mess of the vase behind them. "Thank you, my lord."

She turned and left without another word, and Aedan followed behind her, his shoulders set in stiff, angry lines. Alistair glanced back at Ayla before he went, and she gave him a faint, encouraging smile.

"I'm going to head to my room and get cleaned up." She hesitated for a moment, staring at him. "Are you going to be able to keep both yourself and Aedan in line?"

"Yes," Alistair replied firmly. He had to, he knew, if he wanted Anora and the Landsmeet to be willing to listen to them. They couldn't appear like barbarians who had no control over their emotions, not right before a diplomatic meeting. That would not be the way to get the future he wanted. "I promise you I can, and I will. I'll come to see you later, let you know how it goes."

"You had better," she called back over her shoulder as she headed the opposite direction down the stone hallway, back towards her room. "I'll be expecting you."

He nodded, waving back at her before he headed towards the main hall. He arrived just before Loghain and the others, taking up a spot on Aedan's right, while Arl Eamon was on his left. It looked as though Aedan had managed to calm down somewhat; his expression was smooth and blank, and only someone who knew him well would be able to see the roiling tension just below the surface. Alistair prayed Howe had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

It was only a moment later that the doors at the other end of the large stone hall were opened, and Loghain strode in, clad in silver plate armor and wearing his sword, flanked by a woman in full plate armor with her dark hair back in a severe bun, and an oily, weaselly-looking older man with short grey hair in a rogue's leathers. Both were armed as well; they obviously had not shared Aedan's concern about not looking as though they were ready for battle. Perhaps they had expected a potential attack, Alistair mused. Though he'd never personally seen the man in the leathers before, Alistair knew that he had to be Rendon Howe, especially when he heard a faint snarl escape Aedan. He quickly elbowed Aedan, glaring at him, and Aedan nodded stiffly in return.

"Loghain," Arl Eamon began carefully when the three halted only a few feet away. "This is . . . an honour, that the regent would find time to greet me personally."

Loghain sneered at him, and now Alistair was the one who wanted to growl. The man responsible for nearly annihilating the Wardens was _right there_ in front of him. He tried to concentrate on anything but Loghain's smug face as the former general drawled, "How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?"

"The Blight is why I'm here," the Arl responded evenly. "With Cailan dead, Ferelden **must** have a king to lead it against the darkspawn."

"Ferelden has a strong leader; its queen," Loghain snapped back, looking irritated. "And I lead her armies."

"If Anora rules, perhaps she should be allowed to speak for herself," Aedan said coolly, staring Loghain down when the older man whirled to glare at him.

Loghain's eyes widened just a fraction as he took a good, long look at Aedan, but his expression otherwise remained unchanged as he said, "Ah, the Grey Warden recruit. I thought we might meet again. You have my sympathies on what happened to your order. It is unfortunate that they chose to turn against Ferelden."

"That is a lie," Alistair retorted, unable to keep silent upon hearing the Wardens slandered in such a manner. "The Wardens did not betray Ferelden, they were only interested in fighting the Blight!"

"Yes," Aedan added, keeping his attention fixed on Loghain as though he couldn't even bear to look in Howe's direction, "you know as well as we do that's not what happened, and in any case, I would not accept the sympathies of deserters and regicides."

"You should curb your tongue," Loghain snarled venomously, leaning forward ever so slightly as he faced down Aedan. Alistair clenched his fists, trying hard not to step between the two and strike Loghain, grateful that he'd listened to Ayla and not brought his sword along as the man continued, "This is my city, and no safe place to speak treason. For anyone." The regent cast a scornful glance at the Arl. "There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon. Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden."

"Illness?" Arl Eamon scoffed, his expression icy cold as he stared back at Loghain. "Why not call your poison by its true name? Not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these . . . sycophants." He gestured to the two on either side of Loghain, who had yet to say anything.

Alistair watched Aedan closely, waiting for any sign that he was about to lose his temper. He could clearly see how badly his Warden brother was wishing for vengeance, just as he was, but he made no obvious moves towards Howe as Loghain exclaimed, "How long you've been gone from court, Eamon! Don't you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and Teyrn of Highever?"

Alistair cringed at the mention of Highever; he could _feel_ Aedan's tension ratchet up, and saw his fists clench. He quickly stepped on Aedan's foot, and Aedan gave a tense, jerky nod that he'd gotten the message.

"And current arl of Denerim," Howe was drawling in a voice that sounded as oily as he looked, "after Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar. Truly, it is an embarrassment of riches."

Aedan made to take a step forward, and Alistair quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Aedan shook him off, but didn't move forward again as he took a shaky breath before growling out, "I demand blood rights! This man murdered my family!"

"You have no rights," Howe retorted, practically oozing smugness as he met Aedan's furious gaze. "Your family surrendered them when I revealed them to be traitors to the king."

"When did you reveal it? Where was the trial? What proof do you have of this so-called treachery?" Aedan demanded, his voice and body both starting to shake with anger. "Was my 7-year-old nephew a traitor to the king as well? The servants too?" When Howe did not reply, only smirking at him, Alistair really thought he might have to physically restrain Aedan, but after a long, tense moment where his Warden brother took several deep breaths, his stance finally relaxed. He finished in an icy tone devoid of any emotion, "I'm really going to enjoy cutting your throat and watching you drown in your own blood, I hope you know that."

The woman on Loghain's other side frowned at Aedan. "You are either very bold or very stupid to threaten the teyrn before witnesses."

"Enough, Cauthrien, this is not the time or place," Loghain told her, his hand slashing through the air, and she immediately quieted as he continued, "I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened; our king is dead. Our land is under siege. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. Your own sister, Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed? You divide your nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne."

"What efforts?" Alistair snorted. He couldn't recall seeing or hearing of any of Loghain's soldiers attempting to fight any of the darkspawn.

"Yes, what efforts can there be when you outlaw the Grey Wardens – once again, without any actual proof – the only ones capable of truly defeating the Blight?" Aedan demanded, crossing his arms as he turned his attention back to Loghain, seemingly determined to ignore Howe's presence now.

"Cailan depended on the Grey Warden's prowess against the darkspawn, and look how well that ended," Loghain replied dismissively, waving his hand. "Let us speak of reality, rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us."

"He depended on the prowess of his general, too," Alistair muttered, thinking that he was beginning to understand what Ayla meant when she talked about revenge and suffering.

Loghain turned an icy glare on Alistair, but before he could reply, Arl Eamon interrupted him, saying heavily, "I cannot forgive what you've done, Loghain. Perhaps the Maker can, but not I. Our people deserve a king of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight."

Alistair sighed, his thoughts of revenge fading at once again being reminded of the Arl's plan to put him on the throne. "Oh, is that all I have to do?" he asked sarcastically. "No pressure . . . ."

"The emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down," Loghain growled, pointing a stern finger at the Arl. "Expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland." Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, the other two following him.

"Well, that was . . . . bracing," Arl Eamon said at last, after the doors had shut behind them. "I didn't expect Loghain to show himself quite so soon as that."

Aedan was pacing back and forth now, shaking with fury, his chest heaving, as Alistair watched helplessly, wondering what he could do for him. He was angry at Loghain, true, but even still, he couldn't begin to imagine the fury Aedan felt towards Howe. "Howe killed my family. I can't just let him get away with it!" Aedan snapped, whirling on the Arl.

Arl Eamon shook his head, answering quietly, "I would not ask you to. But bear in mind that he will be well-protected by his alliance with Loghain. He always seemed the kind of man who enjoyed kicking stray dogs. I would not have thought that Loghain would trust him." He shook his head before going on, "We need eyes and ears in the city. Loghain has been here for months. The roots of all his schemes must begin here. The sooner we find them, the better we can turn them to our advantage. Go have a look around tomorrow and see what you can turn up. Better yet, find the nobles who have arrived for the Landsmeet. Test the waters, see how many will support us. When you're ready to talk strategy, come upstairs to my sitting room. We can lay out our plans for the Landsmeet then."

Aedan nodded briefly in response to the Arl before saying abruptly, "I need some air." He stalked out the door that Loghain and the others had just left through without another word.

"He will not do anything rash, will he?" Arl Eamon asked, staring after him.

"No," Alistair answered, shaking his head. He hadn't been sure when his fellow Warden was face-to-face with Howe, but he was now; Aedan would wait until he had a plan, now that he'd restrained himself through the actual confrontation. "He just needs some time to himself. It was difficult for him, facing down Howe like that without being able to do anything about his family." He didn't add that it had been difficult for him, as well, seeing Loghain. It wasn't as though his loss had been quite on the scale that Aedan's had been, after all.

"Yes, I suppose it must have been," Arl Eamon replied softly. "Well, it has been a long day for everyone; I do not believe we will have a formal supper tonight. I will have trays sent up to everyone's rooms."

"That might be best," Alistair agreed. The confrontation had been exhausting, especially on top of the journey here; all he wanted now was food and rest, and to see Ayla. He would rather not see or speak to anyone else at this moment. "I'll take my leave now, my lord, if that's all right."

The Arl merely nodded and waved at him in dismissal. Alistair headed out of the hall, in the opposite direction from Aedan, and made his way through the stone hallways, up to the second floor and to Ayla's room.

"How was it?" she asked quietly after she'd opened the door to him. She'd clearly bathed and changed while they were downstairs talking; she was wearing the green tunic and brown leggings that she favoured when she was not wearing her armor, and her hair was loose and damp. She looked, in short, stunningly beautiful and was a balm to his soul after the tense meeting below.

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind them before he pulled her tight against him and buried his face in her hair, simply breathing in her scent as he relaxed. "That bad, huh?" she murmured after a few moments.

He let go of her and smiled ruefully as he met her gaze. "Well, we didn't attack them, if that's what you mean. But it was a near thing." He explained to her everything that had happened then, finishing up with how Aedan had left the estate afterwards.

She shrugged. "He'll be back, I'm sure. He just needs some time to himself. We will need to help him go after Howe eventually, though."

Alistair merely nodded. He still wasn't sure that he was entirely comfortable with the idea of slow, suffering revenge, but if that's what Aedan needed, then he would help. He owed him too much not to, but he didn't want to talk about it any more than he had to. "Can we not talk about something more pleasant?" he asked as he crossed the room to sit down at the small wooden table that was one of the only furnishings in the room besides the four-poster bed draped in purple.

"Well, actually, I have something I've been meaning to give you, but we were so busy on the road here I never got the chance." Ayla went over to her pack and dug through the side pockets until she produced a small package wrapped in brown paper, which she set down on the table before taking the seat opposite him. "Open it," she prompted.

He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a small stone statuette of a warrior with a sword and shield. The detail was amazing, and it was just the sort of statue that he'd always wanted to buy for himself, but had never done so because he couldn't justify buying it when there were so many other supplies and things that were needed instead. "This is . . . for me? Really? Wow – I – wow." As always when he got flustered, he couldn't seem to think of any adequate words to express himself.

"Of course it's for you." She rolled her eyes at him, though she was smiling. "That is why I gave it to you. Don't you like it?"

"Yes, of course I do," he replied hastily. "But – I mean – why?" He was turning the statuette over in his hands, trying to remember if he'd ever gotten a real gift before from anyone. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't think that he had.

"Well," she shrugged, flushing slightly, "I noticed you admiring them, and I realized I'd never gotten you a gift, so I just . . .wanted to give you something."

"You didn't need to, though," he protested. "You've given me so much already." When she started to grin, a wicked light in her eyes, he added, slightly amused, "And I don't mean _that_. Or . . . not only that, anyway. Being with you – having you love me – it's more than I ever imagined I would have, or could have. I don't need anything else."

She was blushing bright red by the time he'd finished, and he smiled; he loved making her blush, especially as it seemed he was the only one capable of making her do so. "I didn't ever imagine I would have anyone like you, either," she replied softly, not quite meeting his eyes. "Actually, I didn't even think I _wanted_ to have anyone love me until you came along. So, I suppose we're even on that score. But you're not going to refuse to take my gift, are you?"

He shook his head rapidly, realizing she looked a little hurt at the thought. "No, of course not! I love it, honestly. I just wanted you to know that you don't _need_ to give me anything."

"Nothing?" She grinned at him teasingly as she got up and walked over to him, straddling his lap and settling her arms around his neck. He groaned softly, his body reacting instantly to the touch of hers as he slid his arms around her and pulled her closer. "Not even . . . a kiss?" She stopped with her lips just a breath away from his, looking up at him slyly.

"Oh, well, that I _do_ need," he murmured, brushing his mouth lightly over hers, marvelling anew at the softness of her lips. "I need lots of them, actually, every day."

She opened her mouth, just managing to reply, "Is that so?" before he took advantage of her distraction to thoroughly claim her mouth with his, sliding his hand up into her hair to keep her head in place as he tasted her again and again, revelling in the sweetness of her mouth. When she moaned and rocked on his lap, he couldn't help but buck up against her and use his other hand to press her down harder at the same time, desire burning through him hot and fast.

He was just about to stand up and take her over to the bed when a knock came on the door and she tore her mouth from his, looking at the door over his shoulder as they both panted for breath. "Mistress Ayla, I have your supper here for you!" the maid called through the door.

They both groaned simultaneously, and Alistair sighed. "I forgot they were bringing supper up to our rooms. I suppose you had better answer the door before she comes in."

"I suppose so," she answered reluctantly, sliding off his lap and heading to the door. She opened it, and the maid on the other side, the same one they had seen earlier, handed her the tray.

"Here you are, Mistress," she said as Ayla took the tray for her. "I was looking for Master Alistair – he wasn't in his room when I went to take his supper there – oh!" She spotted Alistair at the table at that moment, stopping short as she stared at him in surprise. He half-turned to give her a rueful wave, grateful that his chair faced away from the door, which gave him time to calm himself down. "Oh, Master Alistair, there you are! I did leave your supper on the table in your room for you. I can go fetch it for you if you'd like –"

"No, no, that's okay," Alistair interrupted her as Ayla returned to the table with her tray. "I'll go get it myself, thank you."

"You're most welcome. I'll – I'll just move on to the rest of your companions, then." The maid dropped a quick curtsy before turning and heading back down the hallway, presumably to get the next tray of food.

Ayla was grinning at him when he turned to look back at her. "Do you suppose she realized what she'd interrupted?"

"Possibly," Alistair allowed, finding himself frustrated and annoyed with the interruption, in spite of the fact that he _was_ hungry. It had been quite some time now since they'd been together, and his body was aching with longing to feel hers wrapped around it. "She did look a little embarrassed to find me in here." He sighed as he stood up. "I suppose I should eat first, anyway." His stomach chose that moment to give out a particularly loud rumble, causing Ayla to laugh.

"Yes, perhaps you'd better," she agreed, her eyes twinkling merrily. "It would likely be best for you to have some energy stored up first. We can always continue what she interrupted later." She gave him a heated look that caused his blood to hum in answer.

He nodded in reply, not trusting his voice at the moment, before he went to his room to fetch his own supper, bringing it back to Ayla's room so they could eat together. Throughout the meal, though they chatted of other things as they ate, they also cast each other heated, lingering looks and lightly brushed each other's hands or arms occasionally. This, of course, only succeeded in firing up Alistair's blood more and more, until he felt as though he might burst, and he could tell she felt the same.

They were nearly finished the meal, with Alistair quite ready to continue where they'd left off earlier as soon as they had, when another knock came at the door. Alistair growled in frustration as Aedan's voice came through the door this time. "Ayla, is Alistair in there with you? And are you both still wearing clothes?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Alistair muttered. Ayla gave him an amused glance as she called back, "Yes, he's in here, and yes, we are. You can come in."

Aedan promptly came through the door, and merely grinned in answer to the glare Alistair sent him to convey his poor timing. He looked as though he was feeling much calmer than he had been earlier. "I went up to talk to Eamon as soon as I got back," he began, "and there was a woman there with him – Anora's handmaiden."

"What?" Alistair exclaimed, immediately forgetting about his annoyance with his Warden brother's timing. "What was Anora's handmaiden doing _here_?"

"Apparently, Anora was waiting for Howe," Aedan's lip curled as he spat out the man's name, before he went on, "when he returned from visiting us here. She demanded that he tell her the truth about what happened, if her father was responsible for Cailan's death as the rumours suggest. She has not been able to get a straight answer from Loghain, so she thought she would approach Howe."

"She went to Howe, of all people? What was she thinking?" Alistair asked, shaking his head in disbelief. Surely, if she'd heard the rumours about her father, she had to have heard the rumours about Howe, as well. He didn't know how she could possibly have thought that confronting him was a good idea.

"I can't imagine that went well," Ayla added, looking as though she were thinking along the same lines as Alistair was - that Anora had put herself in incredible danger.

"No, of course it didn't," Aedan responded grimly, his eyes dark with concern and anger. "I truly thought Anora was smarter than that, but she must have thought Howe wouldn't dare to do anything to her because of who she is. But it appears he had no concern for that. Anora's handmaiden - Erlina - said he called her all sorts of names before locking her in a guest room, and was apparently stating that she would be a greater ally dead than alive."

Alistair frowned. "But – would Loghain actually allow that? He's done some terrible things, but Anora is his daughter. Would he really let Howe kill her?" Even after everything Loghain had done, to himself and Aedan especially, he didn't want to believe that the man could be so callous towards his own daughter.

Aedan shook his head slowly. "I asked the same question. And as Erlina pointed out, he loved Cailan like a son, and look what happened to him." He sighed deeply before going on, "I don't know if he loves Anora more than he did Cailan, but Eamon did not want to take the chance, as it sounds like the plan would be to pin her death on him. Anora is well-loved, and if Loghain and Howe could succeed at pinning her death on Eamon –" Aedan shrugged.

"Then Eamon would likely be executed, and all our hopes of winning the Landsmeet and getting Loghain off the throne would be gone," Ayla finished for him. "Not to mention, you two would be next on the execution list without Eamon's protection, followed by the rest of us."

"Exactly," Aedan agreed, running a hand through his hair as he looked between the two of them. "So, I believe we have no choice but to go and rescue her."

They both nodded in agreement as Alistair said, "Actually, this is good news, if we can get her out safely. If she's already doubting Loghain, she'll be far more likely to listen to you and go along with our plan to remove her father from power."

Aedan smiled. "That's what I thought. And if Howe is still in his estate when we go to get her, well – " his look turned deadly cold as he finished, "that would be the perfect opportunity to get vengeance for what he did at Highever."

"I suppose so." Alistair was slightly uncomfortable at the darkness in Aedan's gaze right now, but what could he say? His friend did deserve vengeance for his family; it wasn't his place to say otherwise. He decided to focus on the good part of this plan – getting Anora on their side. "So what's the plan for getting her out?"

"Erlina has some guard uniforms for Howe's estate. She's going to help us slip in the servant's entrance. Apparently, Howe hires new guards on a regular basis, so some new ones won't cause any stir. She's gone on ahead to the estate; we're supposed to meet her there. I know we're all tired after the journey here, but we need to go right away, if you're both willing, of course." Aedan looked at them both hopefully as he said this, the darkness gone for the moment.

"Of course we are," Ayla replied instantly. Alistair looked over at her and smiled at her willingness to help before he nodded his own agreement.

"Thank you." Aedan smiled at them both gratefully. "I'll meet you down at the main entrance. I'm going to see if Morrigan, Zevran, and Leliana will come along as well. The others would be too conspicuous to pass as guards, but those three should blend in well enough, and we'll need all the help we can get."

"Right. We'll see you down there as soon as we get our armor back on," Alistair told him, waving his fellow Warden off as he hurried out the door to get the others.

"Well, I guess we'll have to wait until after we get back from rescuing Anora," Ayla said, smiling ruefully as they both stood up from the table.

"Yes, I guess so," Alistair agreed reluctantly as he crossed over to her, kissing her briefly. "But like I said, it is good news. If we get her out safely, then we should be able to make her queen without her father, like we were hoping to do."

"And you won't have to be king," Ayla said softly.

"Exactly, which means I get to stay with you." He smiled at her before kissing her once more, just because he could.

"Well, we'd better save Anora then, hadn't we?" She gave him a light push. "Go on, get your armor and your sword. I'll meet you down there."

He nodded, turning and heading to his own room, closing the door behind him as she went to go put her own armor on. It looked like he'd been worried for no reason earlier. All they had to do was go rescue Anora from Howe, and then the Landsmeet – and his future – would turn out just the way he wanted. Ayla had been right; everything was going to work out, after all. His heart felt lighter than it had in weeks as he headed to his room to begin their mission to rescue Anora.


	45. Rescuers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party arrives at Howe's estate to rescue Anora; they succeed in breaking in but discover Anora is magically sealed in, meaning they will have to find the mage who created the seal, who is likely with Howe. Aedan is only too happy to have the opportunity to attack Howe. The party makes their way through the estate and into the dungeons, finding and releasing several prisoners there, including another Warden, before finding the final room where Howe is.

Chapter 44: Rescuers

The six of them met Anora's handmaiden, Erlina, at the gates leading into the Arl of Denerim's estate, which now belonged to Howe. She was an anxious-looking elven woman with long black hair tied back, wearing a colourful pink and red dress. Before any of them got a word out, she waved them over, calling in a frantic whisper, "Over here!"

Alistair and the others followed Aedan as he led them over to her, all of them halting a few feet away from her. She stood in the shadow of a wagon parked just inside the gates. A quite large, noisy crowd was clamouring at the front gates on just the other side of the wagon, where the guards refused to let them pass. "The servants' entrance is on the other side of the house," Erlina explained in quiet tones to them, her gaze focused on Aedan. "We must slip past this crowd to reach it. We will have to be very careful: Arl Howe is still inside."

Alistair frowned, exchanging a worried glance with Ayla. "Howe is still here?" He'd been half-hoping that Howe would have left, as he wasn't entirely sure that Aedan would stay focused now. Obviously, that hope had been in vain.

"Yes," Erlina nodded, looking worriedly over her shoulder as though expecting guards to pop up there at any moment. "And wherever he goes, a great many guards go with him."

"Oh, I was hoping I'd get a chance to see him," Aedan drawled, a rather manic joy shining out of his eyes. "That's the best news I've had all day."

Erlina whipped around to look at him, exclaiming, "I beg you, do not put my lady in danger for your revenge! We must get her out first."

"Yes, Aedan," Alistair hissed in his ear. "The plan, remember? We need Anora." Aedan didn't answer him, appearing to be deep in thought, and he sighed, hoping it wasn't thoughts of what sort of torture he would use on Howe.

"What are all these people gathered for?" Leliana asked curiously, gesturing to the crowd.

"The estate is in poor repair," Erlina replied. "The new arl, he has not been very prompt in paying his workmen. Now go, I will be right behind you." She gestured to the left, indicating that they should skirt around the wagon she stood in the shadow of, and go around the building.

Aedan went first, walking quickly but quietly around the wagon, and following a slightly worn dusty trail in the grass that led between the outer wall of the estate and the building itself. Alistair and the others followed him along the trail, through many bushes and trees, and though they did their best to be quiet, it wasn't long before Alistair heard a voice from the wall above calling something out. "What did they say?" he murmured to Ayla.

She was drawing her swords quietly. "It was one guard telling another he heard something down here, and they should go check it out. I expect they'll be down here any minute."

True to her word, four guards appeared on the trail behind them in less than a minute; Aedan had halted them all to wait for the attack, and one guard fell immediately to Leliana's arrow as they rounded the corner. It didn't take long for the six of them to dispatch the remaining three guards, and Aedan waved them on afterwards.

Very soon after that, they made it all the way to the back of the estate, where there was a garden for growing vegetables, as well as a fountain with a statue spraying water into the air. It was getting more difficult to see their way as the sun began to set, everything around them growing darker as they slipped through the garden, just able to make out a servant's entrance up ahead. Two guards were posted there, one just in the process of lighting the torch by the door.

Erlina, who had been following them this whole time, held up her hand indicating they should wait. She slipped behind a shed off to their left, which was still well away from the guards and the entrance, and dragged out two large bags. "These are the guard uniforms," she whispered. "You should change as quickly as possible. You can leave your own things here. When you are done, I will distract the guards, but we must hurry. My lady does not have much time."

Aedan opened up the bags, quickly distributing the six uniforms inside, and they all split up throughout the trees and bushes to the side of the shed to change. Alistair hastily stripped off his own armor and exchanged it for the steel chainmail overlaid with bits of silver plate. He kept his own sword and shield, however. Fortunately, he'd had the presence of mind to cover the emblem of Redcliffe on his shield with cloth before they'd left; it shouldn't attract any attention.

He returned to the others, shoving his plate armor inside the bags along with everybody else's armor. They'd all kept their own weapons, but everyone, including Morrigan, was now dressed in the uniforms. Both Morrigan and Ayla looked severely disgruntled. Ayla was rolling her shoulders and trying out a few knee bends, obviously displeased with the lack of movement afforded by the outfit. Leliana and Zevran looked unperturbed; knowing their backgrounds, Alistair couldn't help but wonder if they'd had to don disguises to break in somewhere before.

Erlina poked her head around the corner of the shed. "Are you all prepared?" she demanded in a low voice. When Aedan nodded, she continued, "I will go distract the guards. I will lure them into the courtyard. Wait in the bushes."

They all watched from the ever-deepening shadows behind the shed as the elven woman approached the two guards, crying out hysterically about possibly seeing a darkspawn by the fountain. The two guards appeared to doubt her word, arguing amongst themselves.

"You know," Ayla began quietly, "I can think of a much easier way to distract them. I'd just need a different disguise –"

"No," Alistair interrupted her hastily, guessing where she was going with this. If he got jealous over just seeing Zevran flirt with her, he didn't want to imagine how he'd react to seeing _her_ flirt with someone else, even if it was being used as a distraction. "That's not necessary; I'm sure Erlina has it handled."

"You know, my dear," Zevran began, grinning wickedly, "I do believe I would like to see this distraction –"

" _Not necessary_ ," Alistair cut him off, glaring at the elf, ignoring the low chuckles coming from the others.

Ayla cast him an amused glance, but before she could say anything in reply, the two guards went by them towards the fountain, following a running Erlina, both grumbling loudly.

"No time to waste," Aedan hissed. "Let's move."

He hurried towards the now undefended door, Alistair and the others all following him as quickly and quietly as possible in the armor. In moments, they had all slipped through the door, finding themselves in a small, fairly bare stone room.

Aedan peeked around the corner into the next room, and gestured them all to follow him further in. The next room was clearly some sort of storage area, with barrels, bags, and crates stacked around the outer walls. "We'll have to wait for Erlina to come back," Aedan murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the open door behind them. "She's the only one who has any idea where Anora is in here."

They all waited tensely, not daring to talk much for fear of being discovered, for what seemed like forever, though in reality it was probably only a couple of minutes. Just when Alistair thought she must have been caught, she hurried in behind them, exclaiming in a low voice, "Ah! It took me forever to be rid of those two!"

"About time," Aedan muttered, looking at the door quickly again. "Where's Anora?"

"She is in a guest room off the main hall," Erlina replied, heading towards the door, gesturing for them all to follow her as she explained, "You must be careful now. The servants, they will not look closely at anyone in uniform. All guards are alike to a cook, no? But you should not draw attention to yourself. Most of the guards are new. They will not know you for a stranger at a glance. It is best you keep your distance from all of them and try to blend in."

They all nodded in understanding and followed her through the next room, which turned out to be the estate's kitchen. All the cooks and servants were busy as they went through, preparing supper for the night, and barely even glanced their way.

The next area was a little trickier, being the dining room; several soldiers were already seated at the long tables already, and some were moving between the tables. They went around the outer edge of the room and avoided looking at or speaking to any of them, walking as quickly as they dared to without calling attention to themselves, and were able to make it through without incident.

They continued to follow Erlina through the next two areas, the barracks and the main hall, and fortunately, none of the guards moving about seemed to notice them or care that they were there. Once they'd made it through the main hall, carpeted in red and gold, which was almost completely empty save for two guards at the large double doors, Erlina led them into another hallway on the opposite side, over to a small, plain wooden door just off the main hall.

Alistair frowned as she halted in front of the door; he could both sense as well as see the magic radiating off it. A strong shield had been placed over the door, and it was glowing a bright blue. He could hear Aedan groan under his breath as Erlina called through the door, "The Grey Wardens are here, my lady."

"Thank the Maker!" A muffled female voice came from the other side. "I would greet you properly, but I'm afraid we've had a setback."

Aedan leaned close to the door, saying in a low voice just loud enough to carry through, "Anora, it's nice to hear your voice again. What sort of setback?"

Alistair glanced at him in surprise; he recalled Aedan saying that he'd known both Anora and Cailan, but he hadn't realized how well Aedan knew her. It sounded as though he was greeting an old friend that he was genuinely happy to see again. This was only confirmed as Anora replied, a note of surprise and delight in her voice, "Aedan, is that you? I had heard rumours you were with the Wardens, but I scarcely believed it was true!" Before Aedan could form a reply, she went on, "At any rate, my 'host' was not content with leaving me under heavy guard. He's sealed the door by magic, as you can see."

Aedan glanced back at Morrigan, and before he'd even asked the question, she was shaking her head. "'Tis a powerful magical shield, not one that can be undone except by its creator. Or by the death of its creator."

"That's just perfect," Aedan sighed, looking annoyed as he turned to the elven woman. "Why didn't you mention this before, Erlina?"

"I did not know!" she protested, looking alarmed. "There were only guards here when I left. We must get her out of there!"

"Don't panic, Erlina," Anora said soothingly from the other side of the door. "Find the mage who cast the spell. He'll most likely be at Howe's side."

The look of annoyance vanished abruptly from Aedan's face as he smiled in a way that Alistair did not quite like. This was all they needed, Alistair thought, for Aedan to have a free pass at Howe when they were in a hurry. He cast a worried glance at Ayla, but she merely shrugged as if to say, what can we do?

"Ah, well, in that case, this detour will be more than worth it," Aedan was saying, looking grimly pleased. "I can kill two birds with one stone, quite literally. We'll be back soon," he called to Anora.

"Thank you, Aedan. My prayers go with you," she answered, as Erlina said, "Teyrn Howe will probably be in his rooms. They're at the very end of this hall, on the left. I will wait here."

Alistair noticed Aedan's scowl at the title, but he didn't comment, merely waving them all on as he began to head away from the main hall and down the long stone hallway that had the odd rug placed on the floor at intervals. They again moved as quickly as they dared, doing their best to avoid any guards they came across, though there fortunately did not seem to be as many here as there had been on the other side.

Eventually, they reached the end of the hallway and carefully slipped through the door into the last set of rooms. Inside, they found a large, well-appointed bedroom filled with bookcases, a desk, a fireplace with a fire still sputtering in it, and other bits of furniture scattered around. Aedan's shoulders slumped with disappointment as they all gathered in the room, realizing there was no one in it. "Have a look around," he directed them at last. "Let's see what we can find."

Alistair began to search around the room with the others, not exactly sure what they were looking for. It was Leliana who picked open a chest by the bed that contained papers he almost immediately recognized as being Grey Warden documents. He couldn't understand most of what was in them, as it was written in code, but he could clearly see the Warden symbol on several of the sheets of paper, as well as recognize Duncan's handwriting on some of them. "Why would he have these?" he demanded of Aedan in a low voice.

Aedan shrugged, frowning as he studied the papers himself. "No idea. Maybe he captured another Warden that's still alive? Somebody that escaped the battlefield and had these papers? We'll need to find out."

It was at that moment that Zevran exclaimed, "Ah ,there we are!" and a bookshelf to the side of the bed began to move aside with a loud grating noise, revealing a door behind it. "I would suspect you will find this Howe somewhere past here," the elf finished, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Good job, Zev," Aedan declared, hurrying over to the door along with the others in the room.

Alistair hastily rolled up all the documents, tucking them into his pouch as he followed the others. He wasn't about to leave Warden papers behind. The door led through a short, dank hallway out into a small room beyond. Just as Aedan passed through the open doorway at the head of the group, Alistair heard a startled voice say, "What? Who goes there?" followed by a gurgling noise and the sound of a struggle.

He made into the room just in time to see the guard that had been there get his neck snapped by a prisoner in a cell behind him. Aedan was watching warily, holding up his hand to the others to indicate that they should wait as the guard fell to the floor, the prisoner deftly removing his keys and unlocking the door. A second later, he dragged the guard's body inside, and they could hear the sounds of rustling and clanking indicating he was stripping the body of the armor.

"Should we do something –" Leliana began in a low voice, but Aedan shook his head, cutting her off. "No, I want to see who it is first and what they're doing here. We have him well outnumbered if he tries to cause any trouble."

A moment later, an older, dark-haired man with a small beard, his face lined and weary, now dressed in the guard's splintmail, emerged. He held his hands up defensively as he declared in an accented voice, "I thank you for creating such a distraction, stranger. I have been waiting weeks for this opportunity. Do you think you could –" He'd been looking at all of their party as he talked, and he suddenly froze when he met Alistair's eyes, exclaiming a short moment later, "Alistair? Is that you?"

Everybody turned to look at Alistair with varying levels of surprise on their faces as he studied the man, frowning. Had he seen him before? "Who . . . ?" he began slowly, before it suddenly hit him; a fuzzy memory from his Joining, which seemed so long ago now he could hardly remember it, nor did he always wish to. "Wait. I do know you. You were at my Joining." He turned to Aedan then, explaining, "He's one of us. A Warden from Orlais. Jader, I think. Or was it Montsimmard? I'm afraid I don't remember your name," he finished apologetically, turning his attention back to the older man.

The older Warden shook his head, as if to say it was of no consequence, before declaring, "I'm Riordan, senior Warden of Jader, but born and bred in Highever and glad to be home."

Alistair saw a bleak look pass over Aedan's face at the mention of Highever, but he shook it off quickly, asking, "Why are you here? How did Arl Howe capture you?"

Riordan frowned, his brow furrowing as he answered, "With an offer of hospitality and a poisoned chalice. I was fool enough to think Loghain didn't yet know who I was." He sighed and went on, "I was sent when we received no word from King Cailan of the outcome at Ostagar. The king had invited all the Wardens of Orlais and their support troops to join him, then . . . nothing."

Alistair remembered Duncan saying that they had contacted the Wardens in Orlais for help; he sighed as he wondered if things might have turned out differently if they'd arrived before the disaster in Ostagar. He felt Ayla squeeze his hand in a silent show of support; he smiled down at her gratefully, getting a sympathetic smile in return.

"How large a force did you bring with you?" Aedan was asking Riordan, clearly hoping that they had discovered some unexpected help. Alistair turned his attention back to his fellow Wardens, praying they'd finally stumbled on a bit of luck.

"We had two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of cavalry," Riordan answered. "The first we heard of Loghain's edict was when everyone was turned back at the border. That was when the rumour reached us that Wardens were being blamed for the massacre." He scowled briefly, before shaking his head and resuming, "We finally decided it was safest to send someone alone, to learn how best to fight the Blight and this regime simultaneously. As a native Fereldan, I volunteered to make the crossing."

_Alone, of course he was alone_ , Alistair thought, disappointed. They'd had little luck so far; why should he expect any differently now? It appeared as though he and Aedan would be left bearing the responsibility for the Blight, no matter what. He squeezed Ayla's hand a little tighter, and she leaned against his side as they waited to hear what else Riordan had to say.

"But the archdemon's nearly here!" Aedan snapped, looking as frustrated as Alistair felt. "Will we have no help?"

Riordan shook his head, looking regretful as he explained, "The other Wardens won't risk their strength fighting Ferelden's civil war. If they spend themselves against Loghain, there is truly no hope. They recall accounts of the first Blight, how many cities fell. If Ferelden is too foolish to save itself, at least we'll be ready when the archdemon leads its forces further. Besides," he smiled at them now, clearly trying to boost their spirits, "I hear you haven't been doing too badly at raising an army yourself. But perhaps if the edict can be lifted . . . I will send a message as soon as I am gone from this place."

"Oh," Alistair said, the mention of a message making him recall the Warden documents he'd found as he let go of Ayla to dig them out of his pouch. "We found some papers; are these yours?"

Riordan took them, glancing quickly through them before nodding, a relieved expression crossing his face. "Yes. These are my records. The names of the dead I could recognize at Ostagar. What I could find of Duncan's own recruitment records." Alistair flinched at both of these, wondering if he should ask to see the names from Ostagar. But really, what good would it do? He was quite certain he already knew every name that would be on that list. What use would it be to look at it? He perked up as he Riordan continued, "Copies of the Joining ritual I rescued from our Denerim vault. Those should never be seen by any outside eyes, but I trust in their encryption."

"The Joining ritual?" Aedan asked, looking as eager as Alistair suddenly felt. To know how it worked again, in case anyone got tainted; even that much would be invaluable. Perhaps they _had_ come across a bit of luck, after all. "Can you induct other Grey Wardens?" Aedan demanded.

"Would that I could, for Ferelden sorely needs them. But for the Joining to work, the recruit needs not only fresh darkspawn blood, but a drop of blood preserved from an archdemon," Riordan explained. Alistair frowned; he'd never heard _that_ before, but it explained a lot. The older Warden continued, "Ferelden's supply should have been in the vault, but it was gone. I can only imagine someone took it out and Loghain either confiscated it or destroyed it."

"Of course he did," Alistair sighed, exchanging a bitter glance with Aedan. How many more ways was Loghain going to manage to interfere with them? "We need to get it back."

"As you know, the Joining's chance of success is slim anyway," Riordan pointed out, glancing significantly at both of them. Alistair nodded, frowning, as he remembered the thrashing, the screaming, and how often he'd witnessed Joinings like Aedan's, where only one recruit survived. "Loghain has done far worse to the Wardens than cut us off from recruiting. And from the rumours flying through Denerim, removing him from the throne is already your plan, no?" Riordan concluded, and they nodded, reluctantly.

"We were down here for a reason, were we not?" Morrigan chose that moment to ask in an impatient tone.

"Oh, yes," Aedan shook his head, as if to say he couldn't believe he forgot, before he asked the older Warden, "Do you know where Howe is?"

"I saw him go into the dungeons," Riordan pointed at another door in the corner across from his cell. "He may still be there."

Aedan was looking grimly determined again, so Alistair turned to Riordan, advising, "You should get out of here while you can." Whatever Aedan had planned for Howe, it was likely to bring a lot of guards down on their heads, and Riordan was looking awfully pale.

Riordan nodded. "Yes, I've a sudden desire to breathe some free air. I will seek you out later - after I find a good physician. And good luck . . . Brothers." They nodded and waved to him as he left out the door they had just come in, Aedan leading them deeper into the dungeon immediately after.

The next area turned out to be a long stone ramp with yet another door at the bottom. Alistair could feel it starting to get colder and damper as they followed the ramp down, passing lighted torches on the way. Aedan opened the door, having reached it first, and Alistair could hear a suspicious voice demanding, "Who goes?" from his position at the back of the line.

"Oh, come now, surely you must know me," Aedan replied smoothly, halting in the doorway, everyone piling up behind him.

"You think you're clever, do you?" the guard sneered back at him. "Anybody tries to come in here without Howe's say-so, we get to do what we like with 'em. I think we finally got a bit of entertainment here, lads!"

Aedan suddenly charged forward, drawing his sword at the same time, and they all raced through the door behind him, confronting the guards in the open room on the other side. There were a half-dozen of them, and they fought decently well, but it was still only a few moments before their party emerged victorious. Alistair looked quickly for Ayla, pleased to see that she looked unharmed, though annoyed. She was tugging at the straps on her guard's uniform, grumbling as she did so, but when Aedan called to them to move on, she went, sighing loudly.

They made their way through the dungeon, checking each room they came across for Howe and any other prisoners he might have detained down here. Around another corner, they ran into several small groups of guards who came spilling out of the rooms around them, including three mabari war hounds.

This was a much more difficult battle; Leliana went down beneath one of the hounds at one point, and everyone rushed to her aid, which in the end, got Ayla brought down by one as well. Alistair ran it through with his sword, using the momentum to shove it off Ayla, his heart pounding with frantic worry as he finished off the hound with another stroke and checked on her. Fortunately, she wasn't seriously injured; the thicker armor had protected her enough from the hound's bite that Morrigan was able to heal her fully once the battle was over.

They ended up with several small injuries for Morrigan to heal from that battle, actually. Once the battle was completed and all the hounds were defeated along with their handlers, they went into a room off to the side while she worked on everyone. When she'd moved on from Ayla, Ayla began to strip off the guard's uniform, declaring, "That is _it_! I am not wearing this thing anymore!"

"It did actually protect you from that bite being worse," Alistair pointed out, torn between worry and amusement as she flung the uniform across the room, one piece at a time, cursing loudly as she did so.

"No, it's _why_ I got bit in the first place!" Ayla snarled, stalking across the room in her smallclothes to one of the dead guards who'd been wearing leathers, apparently uncaring at this point of whoever saw her half-naked. Alistair did his best to keep his focus on anything but her lovely body; it had been far too long since he'd seen her out of her armor. "I tried to shift at the start, to fight those hounds on more even ground, and it turns out my father was right. You _can't_ shift in armor like that. So I refuse to wear it any longer!"

She proceeded to strip the leathers off the dead guard, wrinkling her nose at the smell of them, as Aedan said, "Well, we don't need to wear it anymore, anyway. Our cover's already been blown. It's a shame we couldn't have brought our own armor down here."

Privately, Alistair agreed. The uniform he was wearing didn't fit quite right over his shoulders and arms, and both pinched and rubbed a little, but it wasn't uncomfortable enough that he was willing to wear a dead man's armor just yet if he didn't have to. So he made no move to change as he watched Ayla put on the leathers, which were a bit big for her, but she pulled the laces as tight as possible to make the fit better and declared it good. When she was done, she found a set of mage robes as well, and tossed them to Morrigan, who had just finished healing everyone.

Morrigan frowned, studying the robes. "Neither prospect is very appealing, but I suppose I would rather have the robes than this armor, even if they are not mine." So saying, she proceeded to strip off her uniform as well, though not before she sent a freezing glare to everyone in the room, particularly Zevran, warning them not to look. Aedan chuckled softly, and moved to stand in front of her while she changed. In the end, Zevran and Leliana found themselves some leather armor as well, though both Aedan and Alistair kept their uniforms for now.

They moved on from that room once everyone was finished, and found a room that turned out to be a torture chamber just down the hall. They defeated another half-dozen guards in there, some of whom were probably in charge of the torturing, before they began to check to see if anyone was alive. There were bodies hanging from the ceiling on chains, and other bodies stacked in a haphazard pile in one corner. Ayla eventually had to go and sit in the opposite corner, having become too nauseous from the smell, and in the end, they only found one person still alive; a young, blonde man strapped to the torture rack.

"Was this supposed to be a lesson?" he demanded imperiously after they'd unstrapped him and helped him up. Though he could hardly keep his feet, and bore several other signs of torture, it didn't seem to have affected his attitude any as he continued, "Did my father think it funny to leave me for so long before sending you?"

Aedan shook his head as he passed him a healing potion. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we don't know who you are."

The young man frowned, looking suddenly confused. "Then . . . my father didn't send you?" When they shook their heads no, he went on, "I am Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard, of the Dragon's Peak Bannorn. If you aren't my father's soldiers, pray tell me, who should I be thanking for my rescue?"

"My name is Aedan, and this is Alistair – we are Grey Wardens, and these are our companions." Aedan indicated the others who stood behind himself and Alistair, and Ayla over in the corner.

Oswyn shook his head, looking grieved. "Then I have no question about why you would come, Wardens, for it is your men who have suffered the most here." Alistair exchanged a shocked glance with Aedan, knowing he was wondering the same thing; had there been other Wardens down here besides Riordan? Alistair hadn't recognized anyone amongst the bodies, though it was highly unlikely in any case there had been survivors from Ostagar, but it was possible the Orlesians might have sent a few more men when Riordan didn't return. Yet if they had, it was obvious those men were now dead, judging from the look on Oswyn's face. Howe had much more to answer for, Alistair thought grimly, and he could see the dark anger descending on Aedan's face, as well.

Not noticing their silence, Oswyn continued, "You have my heartfelt gratitude and, I assume, the gratitude of the entire Dragon's Peak Bannorn. If my father sent no one after me, I can only assume that he does not yet know the true colors of the snakes he has allied with. But if you talk to him, I'm certain he would offer you any reward you might ask."

Aedan shook his head, the anger clearing from his face as he did his best to smile courteously at Oswyn. "We need no reward, really, aside from information. May I ask why Howe was torturing you? What had you done?"

Oswyn swallowed down the healing potion they had given him, a little bit of color returning to his face, before he replied, "One soldier returning from Ostagar was my wet nurse's son. We have been friends since birth. He told me his unit was ordered to turn their backs on Cailan at Ostagar . . . _before_ the darkspawn overwhelmed him. The next day, he disappeared. When I went to search for him . . . I accepted a drink from a stranger and ended up here." As he finished reciting his tale, he wordlessly accepted another healing potion handed to him by Leliana; Morrigan was trying to conserve her magic as much as possible, but they'd found quite a few healing potions among the guards they'd defeated so far.

Alistair couldn't say he was surprised that Loghain was covering up the fact that he'd knowingly turned his back on Cailan at Ostagar; neither was Aedan, obviously, as he looked at Alistair grimly. "Loghain grows more ruthless the closer the Landsmeet draws. We cannot let him get away with this."

"Then there is a Landsmeet after all?" Oswyn exclaimed, looking pleased. "Howe said the Arl of Redcliffe was dead, and the Landsmeet called off."

Alistair shook his head. "He lied to you. They tried to kill Arl Eamon, but they failed, and the Landsmeet is still being held, a week from now. We'll make Loghain answer for his crimes there." He was determined to see Loghain pay, now more than ever. He was only compounding the crimes he'd committed at Ostagar and against the Wardens; he needed to be stopped, before he went any further.

"Will your father side against him, do you think?" Aedan asked Oswyn.

The young nobleman nodded firmly. "I swear, if there be any forum to speak out against Loghain, my father will be there. Now, please, I must try to get to him. I . . . I cannot see the last of this place too soon."

Aedan turned to look at Leliana. "Do you think you can see him out?" When she nodded, he instructed her, "Go back to those guard uniforms we left behind, and disguise yourself and him before sneaking him out. And once you've got him safely on his way, can you take the bags with our armor back to Arl Eamon's estate?"

"Of course," Leliana said, moving to support Oswyn, "if you're certain everyone will be all right from here."

Aedan looked over at Alistair, silently asking his opinion; he nodded. He was fairly certain they'd be just fine, and it was important to get Oswyn out of here safely if he could increase their support in the Landsmeet. Aedan turned back to Leliana, saying, "We should be fine; I think we've taken care of most of the guards who are down here, by now. And there are still five of us left."

"Not to worry, my dear," Zevran told her cheerfully as she passed him, helping Oswyn to walk. "I will pick up all the slack while you're gone."

Leliana shook her head at him, looking both exasperated and amused. "I'll hold you to that," she called as she left the room with Oswyn in tow.

The rest of them went to exit the room as well; Alistair helped Ayla to her feet on the way out. "Will you be all right?" he asked her softly. She still looked a little pale, and she had her hand over her nose, obviously trying to block the smell of all the bodies.

She smiled faintly at him. "I'll be fine. I just need to get away from the smell and the nausea should clear up. Let's go find Howe, and make him pay."

"We will," Alistair agreed, steering her out the door with a gentle hand to her back. If anyone deserved what was coming to them, it was definitely Howe, he decided. The more he found out about the man, the more he wished him gone from the face of Thedas, and since that was what Aedan obviously wanted, he no longer had any problem helping him accomplish that.

They found only one more prisoner in the remaining area of the dungeon; a young male elf from the alienage, who had apparently been down here since before the previous Arl had died at Ostagar.

They discovered after releasing the elf, Soris, from his cell that he had been imprisoned for merely trying to rescue his bride, who had been abducted by the previous Arl's son, Vaughan, on their wedding day. Vaughan had knocked Soris out when he'd gone to rescue his bride, and Soris had awoken in the cell, not knowing what became of everyone else, or whether they were even still alive. No one had bothered to release him since then.

Aedan didn't look surprised; though he said he'd never met Vaughan personally, he'd heard many rumours as to what sort of person he was and what "activities" he liked to engage in, and none of the rumours had been pleasant. Alistair and the others were all appalled; Ayla and Zevran looked especially disgusted and furious. Though Alistair had heard that terrible things happened in the alienages, for some reason, he had never imagined that the alienage in Denerim was one of them. He was not happy to find out otherwise, and vowed to find out if there might be anything he could do in the future to make things better, even if he wasn't going to be king.

In the end, they sent Soris on his way, telling him to get out as quickly as he could while he had the chance. Aedan apologized for not being able to send anyone to accompany him, as he wasn't sure he could spare anyone else, but the young elf seemed to think he wouldn't have much trouble, stating that he could merely pose as a servant and no one would look twice. He hurried off, thanking them profusely for their help, and they were left to continue on their way through the dungeon.

Just around the corner from the cells where they had found Soris, they came across what had to be the final door. The only other way to go was a set of stairs leading up that was obviously another exit out of the dungeon; leaving this room as the only possible place Howe could be.

Aedan had been getting increasingly grimmer the further they went down the hall after finding Soris; he froze in front of the final door, his body vibrating with fury as he stared at it.

"This is the last door – he has to be through here," Aedan growled, not even turning to look at Alistair and the others as they halted behind him. "I will finally, _finally_ be able to get justice for my family."

"We're here," Alistair said quietly, thinking that Aedan might need a reminder that they were all there to support him. Morrigan, as if thinking the same thing, came up and laid her hand on Aedan's shoulder; he didn't acknowledge her, but neither did he shrug her hand off. "Whenever you're ready."

Aedan wrenched the door open and marched through with Morrigan just behind him. Alistair followed with the others, wondering as they went just how much blood would end up being spilled on the other side of that door.


	46. Blood for Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party finds Howe, and Aedan finally gets the opportunity to carry out his revenge. Afterwards, they find and release a few more prisoners before making their way back to Anora. As the party tries to escape with Anora, they are ambushed by Cauthrien and several soldiers, causing Aedan and Alistair to turn themselves in to allow the rest of the party to escape.

Chapter 45: Blood for Blood

Normally, Aedan was good at keeping his emotions in check, or at least enough that they were not visible to others. It was a point of pride for him, and one of the lessons his father had taught him and Fergus that he had said was vital for being an effective ruler. Now, however, as he stood in front of the door where Howe was, he could no longer contain his absolute fury.

It had been easy enough not to think about Howe and the loss of his family for the most part during the Blight; he'd had so many other things to do and plan and worry about that he'd been too busy to dwell on it much. He suspected that being a Warden, and being thrust into the position of leadership for the Wardens, had saved his sanity. That along with his friends and Morrigan, of course. He didn't even want to think of what he would have become if he had been left to his own devices following Highever.

That being said, the few times he had been reminded of Howe or his family, he had been completely incapable of containing his emotions. Standing face-to-face with Howe in Eamon's hall and _not_ attacking him had taken every ounce of his willpower – and Alistair's frequent reminders. But now he no longer had to hold back – Howe was just on the other side of that door, and he could do as pleased with him. And the depths of the rage washing through his body and misting his vision with red were frightening even to him, but he had no idea how to contain it.

He barely even heard Alistair's words or felt Morrigan's hand on his shoulder as he reached for the door and wrenched it open, stalking through. And there stood Howe in the middle of the room, two guards and two mages with him, a slightly startled look passing across his face as he turned to the door before a smug smile replaced it. How had he never seen how sickening that smile was before? Aedan wondered, halting just a few feet away from Howe, struggling to contain a feral growl as the others entered the room behind him.

"Well, well," Howe drawled, arms crossed over his chest. "Bryce Cousland's little boy, all grown up, and still trying to fit into daddy's armor. I never thought you'd be fool enough to turn up here. But then, I never thought you'd live, either."

"Why?" Aedan demanded, his voice and body shaking with fury. Some part of him still wanted to understand why the man he had once thought of as his uncle, who had read him stories and tossed him in the air as a child, would have done such a thing. No excuse would be acceptable, of course, but he just didn't understand _why_. "Why did you do it? Why would you betray us, Howe? My father was your friend!"

"Why?" Howe snarled, throwing his arms out. "He was a traitor to me and a coward to his nation! Trips to Orlais, gifts from old enemies; all while I sank in obscurity. Your family squandered glory that was rightfully mine. How suitable that their deaths should raise me to the ear of a king. If you think you can take this from me, that I will allow it, you are very much mistaken!"

"You did it for greed? For glory?" Aedan bit out with incredulous fury. "Then I never knew you at all, _Uncle Rendon_." Unable to hold back any longer, he drew his greatsword before launching himself furiously at Howe.

"No, you didn't, _little Aedan_ ," Howe returned with a sneer, meeting his assault with axe in one hand and dagger in the other as the battle began.

He didn't bother to call out instructions to the others; he was too furious to worry about any opponent but Howe, and he trusted them to watch his back and know how best to deal with their opponents. This was proved to be right when one mage was suddenly unable to cast a spell, while the other's lightning that was directed at him bounced harmlessly off a shield that Morrigan had placed around him. The two guards racing to Howe's aid were stopped by Zevran and Ayla, leaving Howe to face him alone.

"Don't you want to hear what happened?" Howe taunted him as they danced around each other, greatsword repeatedly meeting axe and dagger. "Wouldn't you like to know how your mother begged for mercy on her knees, promising to do anything I wanted if only I let her live?"

Aedan gave an inarticulate roar of fury in reply as he swung with all his strength at Howe, his body overwhelmed with a feral rage he could no longer control. Howe tried to block the blow, and his smug smile faltered as he was thrown back off his feet from the sheer force behind the swing.

Howe managed to scramble to his feet before Aedan reached him, and the battle continued as Howe tried desperately to defend himself before the strength of Aedan's rage. Howe was an experienced fighter, and twenty years ago, he might have stood a chance against Aedan, but he no longer had the stamina to keep up with a younger, stronger man. Aedan could tell he'd been banking on his speed to win, but he had nothing on either Zevran or Ayla, both of whom had sparred with him many nights over the past months. Howe was finished, and Aedan could tell from the increasingly desperate look in his eyes that he knew it, too.

He was just playing with Howe now; a slice here, a slice there past his defense, cutting through his leather armor, making him bleed in as many places as he could without bringing him down yet. He wanted to see the fear grow in Howe's eyes as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop his own death. He wanted Howe to beg and plead with him. He wanted him to cry; he wanted to break this man who had taken everything from him, break him until there was nothing left but a sobbing shell.

He barely even noted the fact that the other sounds of battle in the room had stopped, or that Alistair murmured something and Ayla replied something to the effect of, "Let him do what he wants." His world had narrowed down to his sword, to Howe's blood on it, to the fear growing in the old man's eyes and the sweat dripping down his face, mingling with the bloody gash across one cheek.

Finally, Howe stumbled over the body of one of his mages and fell to the ground, his axe spinning away across the room as he landed hard on his back. He might have begged or pleaded; if he did, Aedan didn't notice when he kicked the dagger away and stepped on Howe's hand until he heard the bones snap. All he heard was Howe's delicious cry of pain; all he saw was the beautiful fear in his eyes as he planted his foot on Howe's chest next until he struggled to breathe, his face turning purple.

Aedan finally took his foot off his chest then, only to toss aside his sword and pull a dagger out of his pouch. He didn't normally use anything but his greatsword; this, however, was a present he'd planned to give Oren while Fergus was away, while he taught him how to fight as he'd promised. It only seemed fitting to use it now, when all he could think of, all he could see when he looked at the broken, bleeding man before him, was the burning, the fighting, the death, his nephew's lifeless eyes staring up at him, the last glimpse of his parents before he'd been forced to escape and leave them behind.

He crouched next to Howe, dagger poised above his leg. "Where's that smug smile of yours now, Howe, huh?" He slammed the dagger into Howe's thigh and twisted, listening to the scream the man gave with a sick joy singing in his heart. He pulled the dagger out before demanding, "How about you tell me again how I have no blood rights?"

He stabbed Howe's other leg, ignoring the babbling and pleading coming out of his mouth. "Aedan, please, Aedan, I was mistaken. I was . . . jealous of your father's successes, while I could do nothing but fail. I . . . I tried to be strong but I . . ." his words ended in a scream as Aedan drew the dagger downwards, opening up a long, vicious gash in his thigh.

"I will take my blood rights now." He yanked the dagger out of Howe's thigh, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "I will take every drop of your blood in exchange for that which you spilled." He stabbed Howe in the shoulder next, twisting hard again, taking a savage glee from the tears that streamed out of the older man's eyes now as he pleaded breathlessly for mercy.

He stabbed him in the other shoulder next, and had just stabbed Howe in the gut when he heard Alistair say behind him, "Aedan, stop. You've defeated him, it's all over." Alistair pulled him backwards, away from Howe.

He shot to his feet and shoved Alistair out of the way; his vision was still misted over with rage, his body was still aching for vengeance. Howe hadn't cried enough, hadn't screamed enough; not enough to drown out the sounds of Highever burning and his family dying. "It's not over until I say it's over," he snarled. "Don't stop me again unless you want to be next."

He didn't see it coming, but he did feel it when Alistair's fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. It was like getting doused with cold water when one was still half asleep; all his senses returned to him with a sudden jolt, his vision clearing, the haze of rage leaving his brain. Had he really just threatened his brother? he wondered, shocked at himself. He looked at the others behind Alistair. Ayla and Zevran's expressions were unreadable; Morrigan looked concerned, while Alistair himself just looked disappointed. Shame washed through him, dousing any remaining traces of his fury.

"Maker, Alistair, I'm sorry. I – I don't know what I was thinking – I was just so _angry_. I - I don't know what to say." He glanced behind him at Howe; he hadn't even realized that Howe had already stopped pleading, that the wounds he'd given him had caused him to bleed out, that his vengeance was done. Alistair had been right to stop him. After all, wasn't that one of the reasons he'd brought him along, because he was the only one likely to actually be a voice of reason in this matter?

"Don't worry about it," Alistair replied, shaking his head, the disappointment gone as Aedan turned back to look his Warden brother in the eye. "You obviously weren't yourself. Sorry for punching you," he added with a rueful grin.

Aedan smiled faintly, feeling relieved that it seemed he'd been forgiven already. Though his jaw where Alistair had struck him did hurt, it wasn't that bad, making him realize that Alistair had not hit him nearly as hard as he could have. "No, don't be; I needed that," he answered honestly.

"Well, now that is done with," Zevran began, "there is one more locked door here. There may be more prisoners in need of rescue, but none of the others had the key."

Which meant that Howe must have it, Aedan realized. But he didn't know if he could even bear to look at the man again, so he gestured to Zevran as he crossed the room to Morrigan, "Feel free to check for it. I'm . . . done."

Zevran nodded, going past him to Howe, exclaiming a moment later, "Ah, this must be it! Shall we go have a look?"

Having just reached Morrigan, Aedan turned to look at the others. "Could you . . . go ahead without me? I . . . need a minute."

Alistair met his gaze for a moment before nodding. "Of course. We'll be right back. Come on, let's go." He held a hand out to Ayla, who took it and followed him and Zevran over to the other door in the room, the three of them heading through it, leaving Aedan and Morrigan alone.

The concern for him was still plain on Morrigan's face, but she said nothing, merely held her arms open to him. Relieved beyond words, he reached for her blindly, wrapping her tightly in his arms. He could hardly believe that she went willingly, returning his embrace, giving him the quiet comfort and reassurance he so desperately needed. Any other woman he'd ever known would have been horrified at what they'd just witnessed, would likely never want anything to do with him ever again. Not his beautiful witch though, the woman he loved more than anything else he had left in this world. Right at this moment, she was one of the only things in his world that made any sense, that kept his heart beating. And now, he had to re-orient himself to a world that no longer held any part of his family, not even the means to obtain vengeance for them.

He could no longer distract himself, could no longer push aside his grief. He had to face the fact that they were really and truly gone, that nothing could ever bring them back. He was left hollow in a world without them, with nothing left to hold onto but his grief and despair over losing them. So he wasn't surprised when he began to cry silently, burying his face in her neck, his body shaking with its long-held grief while Morrigan stroked his hair in comfort. _Mother, Father, Oren, Oriana, Fergus, everyone – I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry that this was all I could do for you_ , was all he could think as he let everything out in his love's arms.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He'll be all right, now that it's all over." Alistair looked down at Ayla as she said this, smiling reassuringly up at him as she squeezed his hand.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, shaking his head as they followed Zevran through the hallway towards the next set of cells. He'd never seen Aedan like that before, hadn't realized the true depths of his fury. He hadn't seemed like himself at all, and the only thing Alistair could think of to do was try to shock him back to himself. Fortunately it seemed to have worked; that terrible, glazed expression of black fury had left his face when Alistair had punched him.

"I'm sure," she replied quietly, nodding her head, a far-away look in her eyes. "He just needed to let everything out. Now that he has, he can start to be himself again, to figure out what he's going to do now. With our help, of course."

"I found more prisoners," Zevran called out just then from ahead of them, and the two of them hurried to catch up.

They reached Zevran just as he stopped in front of a cell containing a young, blonde man dressed in what had once been fine silks, though they were tattered, dirty and bloody now. "Hmm? Who's there? Stay away! You can't do this to me! I'll have you all flayed! I'm the arl of Denerim!" he ranted, sneering angrily at the three of them.

"Arl Urien died at Ostagar," Alistair replied, frowning. This fellow's attitude wasn't making him feel inclined to rescue him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Vaughan Kendells, heir to the arling of Denerim!" the young man snapped back. "It's true! Too many of our troops were lost at Ostagar. When the riots started, Howe came with men to reinforce the garrison here. Or that's what he claimed. As soon as I let him into the palace, he threw me in here. 'One more victim of the elven uprising,' he said. Let me out of here! I'll do anything."

"You're the arl's son that elf mentioned . . ." Ayla said slowly, looking disgusted.

Alistair remembered the tale that Soris had told them all too well; this man was the one who'd abducted an elven woman from the alienage to rape. "So you're Vaughan?" he asked, scowling, noticing the look of fury on Zevran's face as well. If any of Howe's prisoners deserved their fate down here, it was this man.

Vaughan didn't bother to answer their questions, his eyes darting around frantically as he said, "In my room, there's a lockbox full of sovereigns. Free me, and the key is yours."

"What, you're not even going to explain or defend yourself, just try to bribe us?" Alistair asked incredulously. Not that he would have bought an excuse anyway, but he would have expected that the man attempt it, at least. Now he really didn't feel like letting this man go free. He looked to Ayla, silently asking her opinion; she shook her head, scowling. They could always use money, but no way would he take anything offered by this man. "You like to torture elves, from what I've heard. It seems only fair we let an elf decide your fate. He's all yours, Zevran."

"Ah, thank you, my Warden friend," Zevran replied, sweeping him an approving bow before turning to Vaughan, grinning maliciously at him. "We shall see if we can get you to respect elves now."

"No, you can't do this to me! I'm the rightful Arl of Denerim now!" Vaughan screamed, backing away as Zevran opened the cage door with the key he carried, drawing one of his daggers.

Alistair and Ayla headed further down the hallway to check out the other cells while they left Zevran to do as he pleased, ignoring the pleading screams coming from behind them. They only found one more man in the remaining cells, a red-haired man with a full beard, dressed only in his smallclothes. He was kneeling on the floor of his cell, praying to Andraste when they came upon him. He glanced up, his eyes landing on Ayla first, blinking blearily up at her as he asked faintly, "Alfstanna . . . is that you, little sister? No . . . I don't know you . . . do I? Are you real?"

Ayla looked back at Alistair, a slightly alarmed expression on her face, before she turned back and answered the man softly, "I am real, yes, but who are you?"

"I . . . I'm Irminric, knight-lieutenant of the Denerim chantry," the man replied slowly. Alistair sighed as the reason for the man's odd behavior became suddenly clear to him. "You . . . aren't one of the teyrn's guards?" Irminric asked.

"He sounds like he's in lyrium withdrawal," Alistair whispered into Ayla's ear. He'd fortunately never experienced it himself, but he'd seen it with other Templars, and had it explained to him enough to know it when he saw it. And it never failed to horrify him when he came across it. "He's got all the signs: confusion, weepiness . . . he probably doesn't even know what he's saying. If the grand cleric knew he were in here, she'd be spitting hot coals. Nobles don't have authority over Templars."

"I . . . I failed in my duties," Irminric was saying, apparently having forgotten they were there as he pleaded to the heavens, "Maker, forgive me. I failed, and there's no telling what he's done . . ."

Ayla had been frowning at Alistair's explanation, but now she turned back to Irminric. "What? What who's done? Who are you talking about?"

"The maleficar," the Templar answered, focusing on Ayla again as he explained slowly, as though trying to gather his thoughts, "He had turned blood magic upon Templars and Circle Mages to escape from his tower. Near Redcliffe, I cornered him . . . But the Teyrn's men took him from me . . . and brought me here . . ."

Alistair frowned. This story was sounding awfully familiar. "This maleficar, was his name Jowan?"

"Yes," Irminric replied, nodding, confirming Alistair's suspicions. "He . . . destroyed his phylactery . . . we were spread out, trying to find him . . . I was alone. I . . ." he hesitated, looking at the two of them again. By now, Zevran had caught up to them and handed the key over to Ayla, who opened the Templar's cell door as he continued, "You are real, aren't you? My dreams are . . . so strange now. Please, if you're not a dream, help me."

"You . . . you do realize the cell door is open now, right?" Ayla asked, looking disturbed as she stood back from the door, waving her arm at the free space. "You're free to go if you like."

Irminric shook his head, not even bothering to get up from his knees. "No one can free me from failure, save blessed Andraste."

Alistair sighed heavily. It was unlikely anything they could say would get through to the man. Maybe his sister would be able to help him, especially if she brought some lyrium along. "What would you like us to do?" he asked the Templar quietly, crouching in front of him.

Irminric took a large signet ring off his finger, handing it to Alistair. "Give this ring . . . to my sister, Alfstanna. Tell her . . . tell her I'm sorry. Please. Ask her . . . to pray for me."

"Of course." Alistair took the ring, tucking it in his pouch, before he stood up and turned to leave, steering Ayla gently before him. Zevran followed them, frowning as he glanced back at the man, but he didn't say anything.

"But . . . we're not just going to leave him there, are we?" Ayla demanded as they made their way back through the room.

Alistair shook his head regretfully. "We won't be able to get through to him when he's like that. We'll just have to send his sister to him, along with some lyrium. That's what happens when you stop taking lyrium cold. It's not pretty. You have to wean off it slowly, if you want to try to stop taking it."

"The Chantry's Templars – they are addicted to lyrium?" Zevran looked incredulously at him as they went along the hallway.

Alistair nodded, noticing the appalled look on Ayla's face as well. "That's how they have the strength to battle mages – by taking lyrium. It fuels a Templar's powers, just like it fuels a mage's powers, only in different ways. I was fortunate enough to never start taking the stuff before Duncan recruited me for the Wardens."

"Lucky for you," the elf agreed, looking vaguely disturbed.

"I'm glad you didn't," Ayla said softly. "I could not bear to see you like that."

"You won't," he promised her. "I don't intend to ever take it." As he said it, he was grateful all over again to Duncan for getting him out of that life; he didn't want to ever become like Irminric, either, even if it meant he wouldn't be as useful at handling mages as a full Templar would be.

At that moment, they re-entered the room where they had left Aedan and Morrigan; the two were wrapped in each other's arms, having a very obviously private moment, and Alistair felt bad for walking in on it. He halted several feet away, as did the other two, but Morrigan had already seen them over Aedan's shoulder; she whispered something to him, and he raised his head, pulling back from her. He stood with his back to them for a moment, clearly gathering himself, before he turned to face them, clearing his throat, his eyes rimmed with red. "So, what did you find? Anything?"

Alistair explained about the two prisoners and what they'd elected to do with them, wondering if Aedan would approve his choices. He needn't have worried; Aedan nodded at both answers before asking, "So it's true, then, that Loghain took Jowan away from Chantry justice?"

"We have the proof," Alistair agreed, "now that we've found the Templar that caught him. The Chantry has never been a big fan of Wardens, but if the grand cleric finds out what Loghain has done to one of her Templars, she'll be completely furious. The Chantry would never put their support behind him after that."

Aedan smiled, looking the happiest he had since they'd arrived in Denerim. "That is good news, indeed. If we can pull Chantry support away from Loghain, that will give us a big advantage. We'll have a bigger one yet if we get Anora on our side, so let's get going. One of those mages must have been the one that cast that shield."

Alistair nodded in agreement, and after Aedan had collected his weapons, they all headed back out of the dungeon and to the room where Anora waited. Upon arriving there, they found that the shield was indeed gone from the door, and Erlina opened it when she saw them, revealing Anora in a guard uniform.

As soon as she spotted them, the queen went immediately to Aedan and hugged him, a hug which Aedan returned, causing Alistair's jaw to drop in surprise. He glanced quickly at Morrigan, who looked less than pleased, though she didn't say anything, as Anora said, "My thanks, Aedan. I am so glad to see you again, and most grateful to you for your rescue."

Aedan smiled as he pulled back from the queen, looking genuinely pleased to see her. "You're most welcome, Anora. It's nice to see you again, as well, though you look a bit different than the last time I saw you." He tapped on the guard's plate lightly. "What's with the disguise?"

"Because there are two sorts of people in this house: those loyal to Howe, and those loyal to me," the queen explained. "If Howe's people find me, I'll be killed. And my people will insist on escorting me back to the palace . . . where my father may also have me killed."

"You really believe that he would do that?" Aedan asked, frowning, and Alistair had to agree that he wondered also. In spite of all the lines Loghain had crossed, would he really endanger his daughter's life?

"I . . . cannot say for certain, not anymore," Anora replied sadly, looking distraught at the thought, before she continued, "And I am not willing to take that chance."

"No, you're right, of course," Aedan replied. "We'll get you out of here and back to Eamon's estate without letting anyone know who you are, if we can help it." He turned to Alistair and the others, declaring, "Let's go before someone realizes what we did."

"I think it might be too late for that," Ayla muttered as Aedan led them towards the main hall they'd passed through earlier. "Something doesn't feel right."

Before Alistair could ask her just what that was, they entered the hall, and he heard the sound of swords being drawn and bowstrings being pulled. Their group froze in the hall as they spotted Loghain's female soldier, Cauthrien, blocking their way out, along with two dozen guards, weapons all trained on them. _Maker's breath_ , Alistair thought, appalled. How were they going to get out of this one?

"Wardens!" Cauthrien bellowed as soon as she spotted them, pointing her sword at them. "In the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy."

"Oh, blood and damnation," Aedan growled under his breath.

"What are we going to do now?" Alistair hissed. While it was possible they _might_ be able to fight their way out, it was unlikely against that many guards, especially when they were armed with bows. The chances of someone getting seriously injured or killed were high, and he wasn't willing to risk Ayla like that if he had any choice.

"What we have to," Aedan muttered, before holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture and taking a couple of steps towards Cauthrien. "You don't know the whole story, here. If we stand down, will you allow the others with us to go free?"

Cauthrien considered him for a moment before nodding briefly. "I will, if you are willing to go peacefully. Loghain doesn't care about the rest of your companions, just you two Wardens."

"No, you can't!" Ayla cried, at the same time as Morrigan snapped, "I will not allow it, Aedan."

Both women looked obviously distressed, even Morrigan, but Alistair was as relieved as he could be under the circumstances. If they would let all the others leave unharmed, that was all he could hope for, and he was in perfect agreement with Aedan on this one.

Looking at them both, Aedan turned to Cauthrien. "Give us a moment to speak to our companions in private, Cauthrien, if you wish to keep all your men."

The woman nodded stiffly. "Very well."

Aedan drew them all a little ways back before turning to everyone and saying simply, "This is the way it has to be. You all have to escape and get Anora back to Eamon's safely. They won't kill us, not right away."

"No," Zevran agreed quietly, his expression unreadable, "they will torture you first, to find out everything that you know. Perhaps to draw false confessions from you, as well."

"Alistair, please," Ayla begged him, taking his hands in hers as she looked up at him, the grief and distress on her features clear. "Please don't make me leave you behind."

"You have to, love," he replied firmly, squeezing her hands in turn. He could overhear Aedan having a similar whispered argument with Morrigan as he continued, "If we tried to fight our way out, the chances are too high someone would get hurt or killed. This is the best way, you know it is."

"No, I don't," she retorted, and though her tone started out angry, her voice cracked on the last bit. "You can't – you _can't_ ask me to leave you behind, knowing that they're going to hurt you. _Please_ don't do this."

He could see the tears starting to pool in her eyes, though they had not spilled over yet, and it was breaking his heart that she was begging him like this and he couldn't do as she asked. But there was no way he would risk her safety, not even to make her happy, and so he couldn't give in. He shook his head regretfully. "You have to go, love. I'd rather take the chance that I might be tortured than take the chance that you might be killed." He dropped his voice a little bit more, continuing, "You have to get Anora out of here – it's part of our whole plan for our future, remember? Get her to Eamon's safely, and then you can come rescue us, all right?"

She was shaking her head frantically. "I – I know what you're saying, Alistair. But if I leave you here, and something happens to you and I don't get you back – I can't – I wouldn't be able to . . ." she broke off and simply shook her head again, the tears spilling over.

He looked over her head at Aedan and Zevran, pleading silently, desperately for their help. He couldn't take seeing her like this, and he didn't know what else to say. Aedan had finally convinced Morrigan; she looked extremely pissed with him and upset in general, but she was no longer protesting, at least. At Alistair's look, Aedan came over and turned Ayla to face him, hands on her shoulders as he stated, in a tone that brooked no argument, "You have to go and get everyone out of here. I'm not asking you, this is an order, soldier. Got it?" Alistair saw his quick glance to Morrigan and back, and the desperation in his brother Warden's gaze must have been enough, for Ayla nodded slowly.

As Aedan released her, relief clear on his face, Zevran came up to her and added, "Come, my dear, we must go." He whispered something else in her ear that Alistair didn't catch, and she nodded more firmly before turning back to Alistair, her face set now with determination.

"All right, I'll go," she told him at last, and he nearly sagged with relief as she continued in a low tone, "But you had better survive long enough for me to come get you, Alistair, or I will _never_ forgive you. Do you understand?"

"Of course, I understand. I'll be waiting when you come to get me," he promised her in a low voice, glancing at Cauthrien over her shoulder. She was now tapping her foot with impatience. He wanted to kiss Ayla once more before she left, but he didn't think he'd have the strength to let her go again if he did, so he merely said instead, "Now go, love, please. And . . . thank you," he added as she turned to leave, Zevran, Anora, Erlina, and Morrigan following her.

Morrigan gave Aedan one last glance, anger and grief burning in her eyes as she stated, "I shall hold you to that, as well."

Aedan merely nodded, the resolve firm on his face as he watched them leave. Cauthrien and her guards parted, allowing them to pass through the doors before she advanced on the two of them.

"Grey Wardens, you are under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms, treason against Regent Loghain and Queen Anora, and for your order's betrayal of King Cailan. Surrender your weapons and come peacefully."

Alistair scowled at the mention of betrayal, but turned over his sword and shield peacefully enough as Aedan turned in his weapons as well. They allowed the guards to bind their hands behind their backs before Cauthrien marched them off through the door, the guards surrounding them to prevent any escape. As they were marched off through the night, Alistair hoped that he could keep his promise to Ayla, and that he would see her again soon and be with her some place where they would both be safe.


	47. All For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayla leads the other party members back to the Arl's estate, distraught and furious at having to leave Alistair and Aedan behind; the party discusses a plan with Arl Eamon for how to rescue them, deciding to leave in the morning despite Ayla's protests. Meanwhile, Alistair and Aedan have been brought to Fort Drakon, where the guards torture them, demanding information on what their plans are. The Wardens decide to wait for a rescue, as Morrigan has the ring and will know where Aedan is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is some torture in this one, so if this really isn't your thing, please don't read at the point where Alistair and Aedan are in the prison. It will be fairly obvious when you get to that point, so just skip over it if need be.
> 
> And just to leave you with a line from a song that seemed to fit this chapter perfectly: Is this blood on my hands all for you?

Chapter 46: All For You

There was only once in her life that Ayla had ever been as distraught as she was now. This time, it was almost worse, because she knew exactly what the tortured body of a loved one could look like. All she could think of as she led the others back to Eamon's estate through the dark night was finding Alistair's body in the condition her father's had once been in. The nightmare images of Alistair, twisted and mangled, kept swimming through her brain until she thought she might be sick. If she found him like that, if he wasn't alive when she got to him, it would break her, she was certain of it.

What was even worse was that she had _let_ them take him from her. He was her love, her mate, her _life_ and she had allowed them to take him away without even putting up a fight. It didn't matter that he had asked her to; it didn't stop the guilt that she was feeling.

The only reasons she had agreed, in the end, had been because of what Aedan had said and the way he had said it; her father had given her an almost identical order once, and had later told her that she had to be a soldier first, before she was his daughter. She had almost been able to hear his voice telling her to likewise be a soldier first before she was Alistair's lover, no matter how it might hurt her. She had also seen the pleading desperation in Aedan's eyes as he had looked to Morrigan and back to her, and had known he was asking her to get Morrigan out safely as well. It was for those reasons that she had agreed, and what Zevran had said to her had only solidified her resolve at the time; that if their positions were reversed, she would want Alistair to go when she asked.

None of that was making her feel any better right now, however. Her emotions kept wavering between rage, grief, despair, and guilt, and it was all she could do to keep them in control, to not lose her tenuous grasp on her humanity right now. She needed to keep a level head, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time as she struggled to breathe evenly; she needed to be able to help everyone come up with a plan to rescue them both.

She would do whatever it took to get him back, she vowed to herself as they finally arrived at Eamon's estate. She would shed as much blood as was necessary and kill whoever stood in her way.

The guards at the gate recognized her, Morrigan, and Zevran when they arrived and waved them through, as did the guards at the door. Most of the household was sleeping when they entered, but when a servant passed by, Ayla demanded that she wake up the Arl and tell him it was an emergency.

They met the Arl, tired and bewildered-looking as he was, in his study moments later. Anora had removed her helmet, and exclaimed as soon as the Arl entered the room, "Eamon, we have a problem!"

"We have more than one, I think," Morrigan snapped, glaring at the queen. She was as unhappy as Ayla was with the whole situation, Ayla knew, though Morrigan was probably better at hiding it. Her own hands were shaking with the effort to keep her emotions in check, now that they were all safely back at Eamon's estate, while Aedan and Alistair were not.

"Calm down," the Arl was saying, still looking incredibly confused as he stood there in the study, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "What has happened?"

"The Wardens have been captured," Anora explained quickly, looking, to her credit, as anxious as everyone else was.

Eamon's eyebrows shot up as he stared at her in horror, before getting a better look at everyone in the study, as though only just realizing that two of them were missing. "What? How could this happen?"

"Never mind that," Anora waved the question off as though it were unimportant. "The question is how to free him!"

The Arl frowned as he studied her, asking, "Surely you mean _them_ , your Highness? We need Alistair, too."

"Yes," the queen agreed hastily. "Of course I meant Alistair, too."

"You bloody well better have," Ayla snarled, furious because she suspected that Anora really only cared if Aedan got back safely. She didn't care if Anora and Aedan had once been friends, or if Anora saw Alistair as a threat; that didn't excuse the queen's callous disregard for the danger that Alistair faced. Not to mention, Anora was the reason that all this had happened; if they hadn't gone into Howe's estate to save her, Ayla would be in bed with Alistair right now, instead of wondering if she would ever see him alive again. "If we don't get Alistair back safely, too, then Ferelden will find itself without a queen!"

"Excuse me?" Anora demanded, looking affronted as she met Ayla's furious gaze. "How dare you threaten me? Just who are you, anyway?"

"How dare _I_?" Ayla growled, incensed, feeling her control over her anger slipping as it was brought to the forefront of her roiling emotions. She was reaching for her swords when Zevran stepped between them, laying a hand on her arm and shaking his head at her.

"Calm down, my dear," he said softly. "You should save your energy for rescuing your Warden, no? He needs you," he added significantly, when she didn't immediately drop her stance.

_He needs me_. She took a deep, steadying breath, dropping her hands away from her swords as she remembered what Alistair had said about waiting for her to come get him. Zevran was right; fighting with Anora wouldn't get her anywhere, as much as she might blame the woman for being the reason that Aedan and Alistair had been captured. She needed to focus on getting them back. She shook her head for a moment, trying to clear it, before looking up and asking, "What's the plan? Where would that Cauthrien take them?"

Arl Eamon regarded her quietly for a moment, and Anora was glaring at her, though she wisely didn't say anything further, before the Arl at last shook his head, replying, "I am not certain. Perhaps to the castle, or Loghain's own estate, or possibly to Fort Drakon. There are any number of dungeons where Loghain could hold them."

"'Tis fortunate, then, that I know exactly how to find Aedan," Morrigan stated coolly, ignoring the surprised glance Anora sent her way. "I gifted him with a magical ring that can be used to track his location, for just such an occasion." She invoked a short spell, her eyes glowing as she seemed to reflect inward, before declaring, "They have stopped moving. He is . . . southwest of here."

"Southwest . . ." Eamon said slowly. "They have taken them to Fort Drakon, then." He did not look pleased at the prospect.

"So let's go to this fort and get them out," Ayla said impatiently. The more time they wasted talking, the more danger both Wardens were in.

"It is not that simple," Anora informed her scornfully. "Fort Drakon is one of the most well-defended buildings in all of Ferelden. It will not be as easy as it was to break in to Howe's estate."

"She is right," the Arl agreed heavily. "But neither can we leave them there, of course. I suggest that we all get some rest for now, as it has been a very long day for you all, and we will solidify our plans in the morning."

"In the morning?" Ayla stared incredulously at him. Did anyone honestly expect her to get any sleep while Alistair was in danger? "We need to go right _now_!"

Arl Eamon shook his head firmly. "I understand you are worried about them; I am too. But it will not do them any good for you to race in there, exhausted, without a proper plan or preparations."

"As loath as I am to admit it, he is right, sister," Morrigan said quietly, her golden eyes intense as she met Ayla's, the same worry and grief she felt reflected back at her. "I need rest to recover my magic and some time to make more lyrium and health potions. We will have to go in the morning, though neither of us wishes to wait."

"Fine!" Ayla snapped, throwing her hands up in frustration before storming out of the study, unable to look at any of them anymore, and up to her room. She knew they were right, just as Alistair and Aedan had been back at Howe's estate; that didn't mean she had to be happy about it, though.

Zevran entered her room a few moments later, Wynne right behind him, just as she threw a chair at the wall by the door. It didn't break the way she'd hoped it would; she'd hoped for another satisfying crash like all the vases, plates and other breakable things she'd already thrown around the room. The sturdy chair merely bounced off the wall and landed on the floor.

Wynne looked mildly appalled, but Zevran merely raised an eyebrow at her. "You need to rest, my dear, not destroy your room," he told her calmly.

"How am I supposed to rest, Zev, when he isn't here?" she demanded, her voice cracking at the end. She shook her head furiously before throwing her last dagger at one of the posts on the bed, where it stuck fast.

"That is why I brought our lovely Circle mage," Zevran explained, gesturing to Wynne. "She has a sleeping potion that will give you the rest you need before we leave tomorrow. It will not do your Warden any good if you fall prey to exhaustion on your way to rescue him, you know," he finished firmly when she started to shake her head.

"And for once, he is actually making perfect sense," Wynne said, stepping gingerly around the destruction in the room as she handed Ayla a vial. "This will give you a dreamless, restful sleep. You will not have any nightmares, I promise you."

Ayla took the vial doubtfully. She did need to sleep, she knew that. She was exhausted, and if she needed to shift while trying to rescue them, she wouldn't be able to manage it right now. But she felt more guilty than she could express about being able to sleep soundly while Alistair and Aedan were likely being tortured at this very moment.

"We will get them out," Zevran assured her, his expression as serious and sincere as she had ever seen it. "I will go consult our fair bard right now, and I am certain, between the two of us, we will come up with a way to get in there with relative ease. Assassins, after all, are experts on getting into places we are not supposed to."

"Do you promise?" she asked him quietly, staring searchingly at him. _Make me believe it_ , she pleaded silently.

He bowed to her, hand over heart. "I swear it to you, on the debt I owe you, on the life you gave me back."

Hearing that promise, seeing the conviction in his eyes, she couldn't help but believe him, and that made her the calmest she had been since they had been at Howe's estate. "Thank you, Zev." She hugged him tightly, impulsively, and though it wasn't the same as being in Alistair's arms, she did feel better.

"You are most welcome, my dear." He returned the embrace before kissing her gently on the cheek and leaving the room, calling, "Get some rest," over his shoulder.

"You're positive this will work?" Ayla asked Wynne, crossing over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it, before holding up the vial in question.

"It will." Wynne nodded with certainty. "I have given it to others who were too worked up or nervous to sleep before. It has never failed yet." The mage turned towards the door to follow Zevran before hesitating and turning back. "I wanted to let you know – I was wrong before, about you and Alistair. He is genuinely happy with you, more relaxed and less guarded than he has ever been, as I can see that you are with him. Go get him back, so I can wish you luck on your continued relationship." She smiled slightly, leaving and closing the door before Ayla could thank her.

Ayla glanced down at the potion in her hands, still debating as to whether or not she should use it, but then another vision of what she might find when she went to get Alistair passed through her mind and decided her. She downed the vial before she could think about it anymore, and took the blank void that it offered.

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"Well, this place certainly looks pleasant," Alistair commented sarcastically after they'd been tossed into a cell. They had been led deep into the heart of Fort Drakon, stripped of their borrowed armor and cotton underclothes and left only with their smallclothes before being locked up in the cell. It was made of strong steel bars that were spaced only far enough apart for a slender arm to fit through, but was otherwise open floor to ceiling so they could see everything else in the large room; all the other cells full of prisoners and the stairs that led down into a pit in the center of the room, from which tortured cries rang. At least they couldn't see what was actually going on in the pit, though they could hear it, and Alistair wasn't sure which was worse. The echoes off the stone walls were horrible.

"Yes, Fort Drakon is well known for its hospitality," Aedan agreed dryly. "I suspect we'll be getting the full benefit of it soon."

"Torture, huh? I think this is the one time I can honestly say I would prefer to be fighting darkspawn," Alistair answered as lightly as he could manage.

"You and me both. You know, my father once gave me some advice about withstanding torture," Aedan said, a far-away look in his eyes. "He got captured by the Orlesian army once during the rebellion and was imprisoned for a while before he got rescued. He said to try to go somewhere else in your mind while they're torturing you, to think about your happiest memories. He thought about my mother, he said." Aedan smiled wistfully as he finished, clearly thinking of his parents.

"I hope it worked, because it looks like we'll be able to put into practice." Alistair nodded towards the door of their cell, where four armed guards were approaching them. One went to unlock the door while two of the others held their swords at the ready, and the third kept a bow trained on them.

"So, these are the infamous Grey Wardens," the guard that had opened the door taunted them. He was a big, burly middle-aged man who was starting to go slightly to fat, sporting a bushy brown beard and hair that was starting to thin on top of his head. "You don't look so impressive to me. Do you want to confess to being traitors right now? We'll make things easier on you if you do."

"Give me my sword and fight me one-on-one, see how impressive you find me then," Aedan replied coolly, his silver eyes flashing fire.

"I won't confess to something that's nothing but a bunch of lies," Alistair added. There was nothing they could do to him that would make him call the Wardens traitors, he was certain of that much, at least.

"Oh, you want to be brave, do you?" The guard punched Aedan hard in the stomach, and he doubled over with a gasp, though he straightened up almost immediately, scowling at the guard. Alistair had moved to help, until he'd seen the bow draw tighter out of the corner of his eye and realized it would be pointless. He remained where he was instead as the guard continued, "Let's see how brave you two are when we're done with you. Now march!"

There was nothing for it but do as they were told; they marched ahead of the swords and the bow down into the pit, which was filled with piles of grotesque bodies, people on torture racks screaming, or others strung from wooden beams in the process of being whipped. They halted Alistair at one of the hooks hanging from a wooden beam attached crossways to another post, and with the bow carefully trained on him from a distance, chained his arms up above his head to the hook, leaving him stretched to the point that he couldn't fully put his feet down for balance. They led Aedan further down to do the same, while the bearded guard stayed in front of Alistair.

"Sure there's nothing you want to tell me?" the guard asked as he uncoiled a long, black whip with a metal barb on the end. "How the Wardens betrayed King Cailan? Where your troops are? What you planned to do next?"

"Oh, well, that last one I can tell you," Alistair replied in a tone of false cheerfulness, though he knew it was probably smarter to keep his mouth shut. He was too angry right now at the latest in a long line of accusations against the Wardens to stop himself, however. "We were going to go the Landsmeet and get the man who really betrayed King Cailan off the throne. You know, the one who left him to die on the battlefield?"

"Wrong answer," the guard growled, circling around behind Alistair.

"What, you mean the truth –" Alistair stopped abruptly as the whip cracked across his back, creating a white-hot explosion of pain that he instinctively tried to move forward from, but he couldn't get anywhere, chained as he was. Instead, he stumbled to keep his balance on his toes as the second lash hit him almost immediately after. He gritted his teeth, keeping his mouth shut against the cry of pain that wanted to emerge. He refused to give them the satisfaction.

"What, no more smart answers?" the guard demanded, striking him again, grunting with the effort of the blow. "Why don't you tell me more of your Warden lies, huh?"

Alistair ignored him, bracing himself against the blows and keeping his mouth shut tight as he remembered what Aedan had said. Go somewhere else, and think of happy memories. So he put all his focus into an internal reflection, similar to his Templar meditation, and thought of every happy memory he could.

Though it started out with some memories of Duncan and the other Wardens, nights drinking and telling stories and joking around, his mind eventually went to Ayla and stayed there. He thought of her when she was dancing, when she was singing. He remembered the way she looked with her lips swollen and her face flushed from his kiss, with her head tossed back and water dripping down her body in the river, or the way she looked with her back pressed to a tree, crying out his name. He thought of the way he felt when she'd been jealous, when she'd said she wanted only him, when she'd finally told him she loved him, when she said she wanted to stay with him. They were all his happiest, best memories, and he clung to them; somehow, it was surprisingly easy to ignore the pain of the lashes while he thought of her, and he soon lost track of how many times the whip had crossed his back.

In fact, he took little notice of what they were doing to him until the heated poker slammed into his side. The blinding agony of that was enough to shock his mind free of memories of Ayla, and he couldn't quite constrain the grunt of pain, either. He tried to regain his focus, but now that he had been shocked out of it, it was too hard to ignore the constant throbbing of his back, the steady trickle of blood down his legs, or the stabbing pain in his side. He was still, however, able to ignore the taunts of the guard as he stabbed him with another hot iron poker. He refused to respond, and somewhere around the fourth or fifth stab, his mind finally slipped into blissful unconsciousness from the pain and the blood loss.

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When he woke up, it was to find himself facedown on a pile of straw on the cold, stone floor of their cell. His back was still a throbbing mass of pain, though it felt marginally better than before; his Warden healing abilities were probably already acting on the wounds. He struggled up to his knees, feeling the stabbing twinges along both sides of his torso from where the pokers had gone in. He was relieved to see Aedan sitting up a few feet away, awake, if pale and a little worse for the wear. He was facing Alistair, so he couldn't see how bad the damage to his Warden brother's back had been.

"Good, you're awake," Aedan smiled faintly, looking relieved. "Are . . . you all right?"

"Well, I've been worse," Alistair replied, shrugging, an action which he regretted immediately, as a renewed wave of agony washed over him. "Getting nearly eaten by a dragon comes to mind. How long was I out?"

"I'm not sure," Aedan admitted, wincing as he shifted a little. "I only woke up a few minutes ago myself. I was probably a little mouthier than I should have been, so they kept going until I passed out. There's food, though." He shoved a tray with a woeful looking piece of bread, a half-full bowl of mushy stew, and a cup of water over in Alistair's direction.

"What a coincidence. I was a little mouthy, myself," Alistair said wryly, pulling the food closer. It didn't look terribly appetizing, but his Warden appetite was making itself known; his stomach was almost painful in its hunger pangs, so he forced himself to eat it.

Aedan smirked. "Imagine that."

Alistair grinned in reply, studying the area outside their cell as he ate. There were no windows in this room, so it was impossible to tell whether it was night or day out right now. He couldn't see any guards nearby, and the cries of the tortured had quieted down for the moment, leading him to believe they'd gotten a momentary break. "So what's the plan, oh fearless leader?" he asked after swallowing his current mouthful of food.

"Wait for the others to get here," Aedan answered, turning his attention back to Alistair. He had also been carefully studying the area outside their cell. "In our current state, I don't think we'd get far trying to break out ourselves, and they've been pretty careful with us so far, even though we're unarmed. Heard enough stories about Wardens, I suppose. But if it's been as long as I think it has, then the others are likely already on their way here, if not in the building already. I almost pity any of the guards who try to stop them."

"Are you sure they're going to be able to find us this quickly?" Alistair had no doubt that the others would come to rescue them as fast as they could, but it wasn't like Cauthrien had announced where they were going.

"Yes, fortunately they didn't take my ring away," Aedan replied, holding up his right hand and tapping a ring of twisted wood wrapped around his middle finger. "Morrigan can use this to track me with magic, she said. So, they should know exactly where we are, even if Ayla couldn't track us."

Alistair raised his eyebrows. "Morrigan's got a magical locator ring on you? That's a little creepy."

Aedan shook his head, rolling his eyes. "It's not creepy, it's for a situation exactly like this, in case we got separated or captured."

"Uh-huh," Alistair said skeptically, though he grinned mischievously at Aedan when his fellow Warden glared at him. Secretly, he was grateful the witch had thought of such a thing; now he might be able to see Ayla and get out of here sooner than he'd thought.

It was maybe an hour or so later when something finally happened; it might have been longer than that, but it was hard for Alistair to tell. He and Aedan had been alternately talking in low voices or sitting silently when they could no longer think of anything to say, when suddenly the door on the other side of the room, the one through which they'd been brought in, opened.

Alistair had expected to see one or more of the guards; what he didn't expect was to see the bearded guard stumbling in backwards with a woman's arms around him. When the guard turned slightly to the side as he passionately kissed the woman he held, Alistair nearly cried out in shock as he got a better look at who it was. He'd know that tumble of flaming hair anywhere, even if he couldn't get a good look at her face right now. He shot to his feet, not even noticing the pain as jealous fury boiled through him.

He knew what she was doing, that it was a distraction; of course he knew. But still, that guard's hands – and mouth – were on her and that was all he could see right now, all he could think of. He knew other men had kissed her before him, but it was one thing to know it and another thing entirely to _see_ it, even if he knew she wasn't doing it for pleasure, but only so she could free him. He clenched his fists, taking steadying breaths, wanting to kill that guard for even daring to touch her.

"Don't do anything stupid, Alistair," Aedan murmured in his ear, having joined him at the wall of the cell facing the door to watch what was going on. "It's just part of her plan." Even as he said it, another guard came backing into the room, followed by Morrigan, who swung the door shut behind her even as she advanced on the other guard, her hips swinging seductively.

For the first time since Alistair had met Morrigan, she wasn't wearing her clothes from the Wilds, but rather a tight red dress similar to the blue one Ayla wore, both dresses only reaching to mid-thigh, low-cut, and leaving absolutely nothing of either woman's curves to the imagination. Her hair, too, was loose for once, spilling over her shoulders and swinging behind her back as she reached the guard, draping her arms around his neck. Alistair heard Aedan suck in a breath of surprise next to him as the witch pressed her body to the guard's.

Alistair quickly turned his attention back to Ayla; he was just in time to see her slip a dagger out from the garter belt underneath her skirt, never missing a beat in kissing the guard as she snaked her arm behind his back and thrust the dagger between his ribs. The guard stiffened, his back arching as blood spilled down it when she yanked the dagger out, before he slumped to the ground. Ayla knelt over him, slitting his throat as a finishing touch before tearing a scrap of cloth off the man's under-tunic to clean her hands and dagger with. Alistair found his jealousy somewhat mollified as she stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before spitting on the floor by the guard's head and kicking him in the ribs for good measure.

At the same time as she had been doing that, Morrigan had used her magic to electrocute the guard she was with until he, too, collapsed to the ground. Morrigan then knelt down and began to search his body, as Ayla did with her guard. It was Ayla who came up with a ring of keys, however. "Here they are!" she declared triumphantly.

"Ayla, we're over here!" Alistair called in a low voice, knowing that she would hear him. Her head jerked up, and she spotted him almost immediately, her whole face lighting up when she did so. She was across the room in seconds, Morrigan close on her heels. She reached for his hands through the bars, and he took them eagerly, feeling the last of his jealousy melt away at her touch.

"Alistair, you're all right!" she cried, her whole face shining with relief and joy. He couldn't deny that she looked devastatingly gorgeous in that dress, he thought as he looked her over, incredibly relieved to see her, though he wasn't sure how he felt about her using it for the express purpose of seducing other men, even if it _was_ to rescue him.

"Yeah, I'm all right, especially now," he replied, smiling at her, at the same moment as Morrigan prompted, "The keys, Ayla. We must let the fools out."

"Oh, of course." Ayla let go of Alistair's hands, hurrying around to the door on the front of their cell to try each key to get the door open, even as Aedan said, "Are you calling me a fool?"

He was smiling as he said it, Alistair noted, holding Morrigan's hands through the bars as he had been holding Ayla's, seemingly not at all offended by the term. Alistair had a good view of his back now, as he'd backed up from the wall and turned to face the door, not wanting Ayla to see _his_ back. It was even worse than he'd thought it would be; a mass of red, bloody welts, skin hanging in strips here and there, the whole thing looking like one raw, open wound. Which, judging by how his back felt, meant his probably looked the same. No, he definitely couldn't let Ayla see this.

"Of course I am calling you a fool," Morrigan snapped, though her expression looked surprisingly soft as she did so. "You went and allowed yourself to be caught and tortured, did you not?"

"Only so nothing would happen to you and the others," Aedan replied. "And I would do it again."

"Exactly! You are a fool, Aedan Cousland, and I do not know why I put up with you," the witch retorted. She had yet to let go of Aedan's hands, however, Alistair realized.

"Oh, you don't? I do," Aedan murmured in a low voice, before whispering something to her that Alistair didn't catch, which he figured was probably just as well, judging by the light blush that spread across Morrigan's face right after.

It was at that moment that Ayla cried, "Found it!" and the door to the cell creaked open. She was through in the next second, and Alistair barely had time to brace himself before she flung herself into his arms. Even still, he staggered a little, being much weaker than he normally was. He didn't care, however, because he was holding her, the real thing, in his arms, not just thinking of his memories of her. She was here, and that was all that mattered, he thought, clutching her tightly to him as he buried his face in her hair, breathing deep of the flowery smell that he loved so much.

He might have kissed her next, though it wasn't really the best place or time for it, except her hands tightened on his back as she held him to her and he couldn't stifle the grunt of pain as the movement deepened one of the wounds there. Nor could he prevent the blood that he knew she could suddenly feel spilling onto her hands. She pulled away from him, looking at her hands in alarm, and then up at his face. "Alistair, what . . .?"

He was already backing away from her, hoping against hope that he could keep her from looking at his back. "It's nothing, I'm fine," he assured her hastily.

"Let me look at your back," she demanded, advancing on him even as he continued to back away.

"No, really, it's nothing –"

_"Alistair!"_

"Fine," he conceded, realizing how upset she was and that he had no hope of getting her to give up, and he halted where he was, allowing her to circle around to look at his back. Morrigan had followed her into the cell, and though Aedan had briefly tried to hide his back as well, she had turned him abruptly around to look at it. Alistair couldn't see her expression as her back was to him, now, but he could see her shoulders tighten, even as he heard Ayla gasp behind him.

He turned quickly to placate her, and her eyes lifted to meet his. The sheer horror on her face hurt him worse than anything they had done to him, especially when he saw the guilt flash through her eyes right after it. "Ayla, I'm fine –" he began, heart aching from the look on her face, but she cut him off.

"You are _not fine_!" she screamed at him, and he could see her eyes flash to that yellow color as she began to hyperventilate. "How _dare_ they do this to you? Someone is going to _**die**_ for this!"

_Oh Maker_ , he thought, alarmed at the raw, snarling rage in her voice, the feral fury shining out of her eyes and on her face. He remembered the story she had told about losing control when the dragon had nearly killed him, and knew they couldn't afford to have the same thing happen here. He had to calm her down.

He took her hands in his, tightening his grip when she tried to shake him off, and he pressed one of her hands to his heart, knowing instinctively why she was reacting so badly. "Ayla, love," he said in a low, soothing tone, seeing her breathing start to slow almost immediately when she felt his heartbeat, "I'm alive. I'm alive, and I _will be_ fine, I promise you. You can't lose control, okay? We need you – _I_ need you – to get us out of here safely, and we can't do that if you're not in control. Please, love, calm down."

"He is right, Ayla," Morrigan agreed, though he could see fury burning deep in her gaze as well when she came up alongside him. "I can only heal them enough to keep them on their feet until we get back. They will not be at their full fighting strength, and I do not possess unlimited magic. We cannot have you lose control and shift, not right now, for we would not have a fighter on our way out."

"If you lost control, you could hurt us," Aedan added quietly. "You could hurt Alistair."

Alistair saw her start at that, her eyes widening, and the yellow color disappeared abruptly as she took several deep breaths. He frowned at Aedan, thinking he might have taken that a bit far, but it seemed to have worked, at any rate. She leaned in and smelled him deeply as if to reassure herself he was real, her hand still pressed to the beat of his heart, and he kissed the top of her head gently. "Let's get out of here," he whispered to her.

She nodded tightly. "Okay, we'll go. But I _am_ going to come back and make everyone in here pay before I raze this place to the ground," she stated with dark promise in her voice. The deep rage in her eyes and the sheer conviction of her promise was a little alarming, Alistair had to admit. For the first time, he could see the side of her that would have tortured people for revenge in her father's name, and he didn't want her to give into that, not for his sake. He would talk her out of it later, he decided. Now wasn't the time to argue with her.

"I shall help you, when you do," Morrigan declared. "You may do the killing as you like, and I will bring the building down. Now," she continued, before Aedan could protest, as Alistair could see he was going to, "I will heal you as best I can, and we will get you some guard uniforms to disguise you. There is an armory just outside of this room."

So saying, she put one hand on each of their chests, her hands glowing blue, and Alistair felt the soothing warmth of the healing magic pass through him, concentrated mainly on his back. All too soon, however, she lifted her hands away, looking pale and wobbling slightly. Aedan hurried to support her, and she waved him off. "I will be fine. It merely took more out of me than I had expected."

Though Alistair felt a good deal better than before, he could tell that he was nowhere near fully healed. His back ached, though it was not as bad as before, and he was still a little weak and light-headed. It would be enough to get him back to Arl Eamon's, though, he felt sure.

"Let's hurry," Aedan urged, gesturing for them to follow as he left through the cell door. Between the four of them, they managed to drag the bodies of the two guards back into the cells, hoping that would buy a little more time than just leaving them out in the open. They then made their way to the armory to get uniforms for the way out.

"So, this was your plan to break in and rescue us?" Alistair asked as they went, gesturing at Ayla's too-short and still somehow utterly appealing dress.

It seemed to work to distract her from her dark thoughts, as he'd hoped, though he _was_ also curious. She slanted an amused grin at him. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Clearly," Aedan remarked, stepping over the body of another guard just inside the armory. "Poor bastards obviously have no concept of how dangerous two beautiful women can be."

"As I explained to you once, Aedan, men are all too willing to believe that a woman is weak and finds them attractive." Morrigan led him over to a uniform on a rack. "Here, this one should do."

"Yes," Ayla agreed, "it was surprisingly easy to get in here when we explained that the captain had ordered us as . . . _entertainment_ for his men. All we had to do was play nice, so to speak, with all the guards we came across."

Alistair frowned as she led him to a guard uniform as well, unable to stop himself from wondering as he put it on just how many other guards had put their hands all over her. As if sensing what he was thinking, Ayla said quietly, "It was just a few kisses, Alistair, nothing more. It didn't mean anything, you know that. It was just the easiest – and _safest_ ," she added pointedly, "way to get in here and get you two out."

"I know," he muttered as she finished helping him get the armor on. "I just – I'd never seen you kiss another man before. I mean, I know that you _have_ , I just, I'd never actually _seen_ it. I couldn't help but be jealous."

"I understand," she told him, smiling wryly, "believe me, I do. But, you know that you don't need to be, right? _You_ are the only one I truly want kissing me or putting his hands on me. I'm yours, always, remember?"

He smiled at that. "I remember. Now let's get back to Arl Eamon's. I believe we had something to finish when we get back there."

She gave him a heated look, that in spite of his pain, got his blood racing through his veins as she led the way back to the door. "So we do."

"Where are the others?" Aedan was asking as they headed back out the door of the armory, fully dressed now in the guard uniforms. "Was it just the two of you?"

"No," Ayla shook her head in reply, continuing, "Leliana, Sten, Oghren and Zevran are waiting not far outside of the fort. If we didn't come out within a certain amount of time, they were going to come in after us. Leliana wanted to join us, but we thought it might look suspicious if there were too many of us, so Morrigan and I had her wait with the others, since neither one of us was willing to wait outside for you two. Wynne is back at Arl Eamon's, stocking up on as many potions and healing supplies as possible for your return."

"Good," Aedan said sincerely, wincing slightly as he walked. Alistair felt the same way; in spite of the healing Morrigan had given them, it was still barely tolerable to wear the armor over his sore back while they walked. "Let's do our best to get back there without further incident."

Fortunately, it turned out to be fairly easy to get out of the fort without running into problems. The area with the cells and armory had already been well cleared out by both women, and once they got into the main area where the offices and other rooms were, no one really looked twice at them making their way through the halls. The few times they did run into a guard that actually stopped to talk or look at them, Aedan put on quite a convincing act that the two of them were merely looking for somewhere to have a tryst with the women, and no one had any trouble believing them. In the end, they only had to fight the two guards out in the entrance hall, who didn't want to allow them to actually leave the fort. Between Ayla and Morrigan, however, the two were down before Alistair and Aedan could even attempt to help.

In no time, they were out the doors of Fort Drakon, and as soon as they were far enough away from the main doors that no one should be watching, they began to run as fast as they could manage. Not far down the road, the other four appeared, and they all made their way back to the Arl's estate as quickly as possible. Alistair was far more relieved to see Arl Eamon's home this time when they finally arrived, in spite of how painful and exhausted he was. Everybody was safe, and as Aedan had said, he would do it all over again if he had to. They were all alive, and that was all that was important. Now, they just had to make sure the Landsmeet went the way they needed it to, and with Anora on their side now, Alistair's hopes were much higher that everything would work out.


	48. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their return to Arl Eamon's estate, Ayla visits a freshly healed Alistair, expressing her guilt at having to leave him behind. He does his best to convince her that she is not to blame, while she convinces him that he must rest until Wynne says it is okay. Meanwhile, Aedan is getting similar instructions from Morrigan that he must rest, and he finally confesses to her that he did not defeat Flemeth after all. She eventually forgives him for this, and they discuss what future they might have together. Afterwards, Aedan goes to visit the Arl and Anora to settle further plans for the Landsmeet.

Chapter 47: Recovery

"How are you feeling?" Ayla asked softly, standing next to Alistair's bedside. She had changed out of the dress she had worn to get him out, now wearing the green tunic and brown leggings he most often saw her in. He was rather relieved, actually; as good as she'd looked in that dress, he wasn't sure he could see her in it without thinking of that guard touching her. It was one of the many things he did not want to re-live from being in Fort Drakon.

"Much better, actually," he replied. He was sitting up in the bed after Wynne had finished healing him; she'd used all her magic and potions on him after their return and had pronounced him done a few minutes ago before leaving the room. All the wounds on his back and from the pokers were closed, now, though Wynne had said he would still need to rest and recover from the blood loss and trauma. And though his back was healed over, the skin still felt stretched and tender to the touch, as though it could break open again at any moment. Wynne had said that feeling might last for another few days before the newly healed skin recovered. He doubted he would be sleeping on his back any time soon, and he was starving, but other than that, he felt entirely like himself again. "I feel almost completely back to normal, though I am starving. They didn't feed us nearly enough for a Warden's appetite."

"I thought you might be hungry. I brought you something to eat." Ayla gestured to the table in the room, where she'd set down a tray of food before coming over to him. He frowned, noticing she looked much more subdued than normal, the usual lively sparkle gone from her eyes. After they'd returned to the Arl's estate a few hours ago, discovering that it was late in the afternoon the day after their capture, he and Aedan had been promptly hustled to their rooms for healing in spite of their protests. Wynne had remained with him, while Morrigan had gone with Aedan to heal him after drinking more lyrium potions. Ayla had stayed by his side until Wynne had started assessing the damage, which was when she'd promptly left, looking a little ill. She hadn't come back until just now. He couldn't help but wonder if she was somehow blaming herself for what had happened.

He got up from the bed, uncaring that he was wearing only his smallclothes, though it was at least a new, clean pair he'd changed into before Wynne had begun healing him. He had briefly bathed as well before her healing session, aside from his back. Ayla was at his side almost immediately, wrapping a supporting arm around him as he went over to the table. "I'm pretty sure I can walk, you know," he pointed out. He did feel a bit light-headed, but he suspected that was more from hunger now than anything else. He didn't bother to remove her arm, though, allowing her to keep it around him, though he didn't lean any of his weight on her. She frowned, but didn't reply as he sat down at the table, a large array of stew, meats, cheeses and bread before him on the tray, along with a jug of water.

She sat across from him as he began to eagerly devour the food there. The one meal they'd been provided with during their day's stay had barely touched his bottomless Warden appetite. After a few minutes of Ayla sitting there silently, he paused in his eating and looked up at her, curious. She was watching him like a hawk, as though afraid he'd disappear if she looked away, and she still looked . . . distressed, was the only way he could think of to describe it. "Is something the matter?" he asked her quietly. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Am _I_ feeling all right?" she demanded incredulously, her hands slamming down on the table as her eyes flared with sudden temper. " _You_ just got back from being tortured and you want to know how _I'm_ doing?!"

He could see the guilt buried beneath the anger in her eyes and sighed; he had thought that might be the problem. He certainly didn't want her feeling guilt over what had happened; she wasn't to blame for any of it. "Yes," he said firmly. "Wynne has healed me and I feel fine now, but you obviously don't, so tell me what's wrong, please."

"What's wrong?!" she snapped, shooting to her feet and pacing back and forth across the room. "What's _wrong_ is I let them do that to you! What's _wrong_ is I left you behind to be tortured! What's _wrong_ is they could have killed you before I got there and I would have lost you! That's what's _wrong_!" She was heaving by the time she was finished, her fists clenched tight, her shoulders stiff.

He stared at her for a second, appalled at how much she was blaming herself, before he quickly got to his feet and went to her, drawing her unyielding body into his arms. "Ayla, please, don't do this to yourself," he begged her softly, holding her tightly and feeling her slowly relax by degrees against him. "I asked you to leave me there, and I _wanted_ you to leave me there. And I would do it all over again, willingly, I promise you. I would take torture any day over risking your life and the lives of our friends. And I _didn't die_. Maker, those aren't even the worst injuries I've ever had. So please, stop blaming yourself."

She had eventually relaxed completely against him while he was talking, burying her face in his chest, but when he finished, she raised her head to look at him, her eyes shining with tears, a few of them tracking slowly down her cheeks. "Alistair, you don't understand. I _know_ what it looks like when someone I love has been tortured to death. I spent every waking minute until I saw you again picturing what I might find. And if I had found you looking like my father did – after I had a _choice_ this time and I left you behind – I can't –" she shook her head, unable to finish the sentence as her voice cracked.

"I'm sorry, love," he replied softly, framing her face with his hands and wiping her tears away gently with his thumbs. "I admit, I didn't think of how it would compare to what happened to your father when I sent you away, and I know it must have hurt. But I would still do it again, because you're alive and safe, and so am I now. No," he interrupted her, holding up his hand when she went to say something, "you don't fully understand, either. You love me, I know that, but you've at least had people that loved you before. You are the first person to ever love me, to ever make me feel like I was worth anything. Do you know how I would feel if I lost you, if I lost the only good thing I've _ever_ had in my life? How I would feel if that happened just because I refused to get arrested and go through a little torture? I told you I would do whatever I have to, to get us both through this, and I did."

She was staring at him, open-mouthed, surprise bright in her eyes. Slowly she shook her head. "I understand what you're saying, I do. And yes, I've had – and still have – family that loves me. But . . . you're the first person to ever make me realize that I could love somebody that _wasn't_ my family, that I was even capable of that. That . . . I could have a life-mate that truly understood me and truly accepted me. _You_ have no idea what that means to _me_ , what losing you would do to me."

He couldn't help but smile at her passionate defense of how much she loved him, because it was still so hard for him to believe sometimes, and the way it warmed his heart and whole body to hear it was unbelievable. But – "You're wrong," he told her. "I know what it would do to you, because it would do the same thing to me. Now, we can argue over who loves who more, although you would lose in the end –" he winked at her to show her he was teasing, and was elated when he actually got a smile out of her in response – "but you're never going to convince me that I didn't do the right thing, or that you doing as I asked you to do wasn't the right thing. _Everyone is alive, and safe_. And we've got Anora on our side, now. So please, stop feeling guilty about this so I can kiss you senseless already, okay?"

This time, she actually laughed, and he wasted no time in taking advantage of that, swooping down to kiss her fervently. He swept his tongue through her mouth, tasting her with an urgent need and with all the pent-up passion he'd been feeling for her for the last several days – weeks, even. She moaned and gripped his hair tightly when he pressed her harder against him, squeezing her rear roughly with one hand while the other was tangled in her hair. She nipped his bottom lip hard, returning his kiss with equal fervor. It was when he started to sweep that other hand down to lift her up that she suddenly pulled back, pushing at his chest. "Wait," she gasped, panting hard, her pupils blown wide with lust.

"What?" he demanded breathlessly. " _Why_?" He was hard as a rock, aching to be buried in her right now after their weeks apart, and he could tell she wanted him to be, too, yet she was pushing against him, keeping him at a distance.

"Wynne said you can't, that we can't do this, not until you're better," she explained, trying to pull back further, though he didn't let her go.

"She actually said that?" he asked in disbelief, staring at her.

"Well, not in so many words," Ayla admitted, "but she did tell me not to let you overexert yourself until she'd pronounced you fully healed, and she put a lot of emphasis on 'overexert'." She smiled ruefully and shrugged. "Healer's orders."

"Honestly, Ayla, I'm fine. I promise you I feel up to it." To demonstrate his point, he pulled her hips into his even more firmly, showing her just how ready for her he was.

"Ah," she gasped, trying to arch her hips away from his. "Goddess, don't _do_ that. I'm sure you're 'up to it'," she said wryly as she pushed hard at his chest again. "But I'm doing what the healer says. Until Wynne tells me otherwise, _you_ are going to rest."

"You can't be serious," he groaned, letting go of her reluctantly when she nodded firmly, pushing at his chest again. "Maker, Ayla, do you know how badly I want you right now?"

"I know," she replied, backing out of his reach, taking deep breaths. "Believe me, I know, but I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize you getting better, no matter how much we both want to. It will only be a couple more days, anyway." She grinned when he sighed loudly, heading back to the table to eat, defeated. "Besides, I intend to put your Warden stamina to the test again, so I'll need you at full strength."

"Do you promise?" he asked her hopefully, not that her saying something like that was really helping his state of arousal any. But he'd recognized the stubborn look on her face, and knew he wouldn't get anywhere trying to talk her out of it, so there was nothing for him to do but wait. And maybe try to bribe Wynne into saying he was healed sooner than she'd planned to.

She nodded, smiling, and he was pleased to see that sparkle back in her eyes. Now she looked like his Ayla again. "And does this mean you've stopped blaming yourself?" He might be pushing his luck at this point, but he really wanted to know.

She sighed, her eyes sliding away from his. "It means I'm really going to try not to, and I'm going to try not to think about it anymore. But please, tell me you won't ask me to do that again. I don't want to go through that ever again."

He nodded, slowly. "I promise I won't ever ask you to leave me behind to be arrested again." That was the best he could do; he wasn't about to make any other sorts of promises that he might have to break to keep her safe, but he was pretty sure that particular promise would be easy to keep. Once the Landsmeet was over and Loghain was out of the way, no one would _want_ to arrest him again. It would just be darkspawn trying to kill him, like normal.

She turned her gaze back to his, looking at him appraisingly, and he could see that she wasn't fooled by the promises he'd left out, but as if knowing that was all she could expect, she finally said, "Good," before heading for the door.

"Wait, you're not going to stay?" he asked, catching her arm as she went by him. "Just to sleep," he clarified when she raised her eyebrows at him. "I just . . . want you here with me."

She considered it for a moment, a smile spreading across her face. "Are you going to behave if I stay?"

He nodded, putting a hand over his heart. "I'll be good, I swear." If she wanted to wait until Wynne said it was okay, he would respect that, even if it killed him. But if he was going to have to rest, he still wanted her there in his arms when he did.

"Okay," she conceded, going to sit down at the table again while he ate. "But _just_ to sleep for now."

"Just to sleep," he agreed, going back to his food. He was going to have a talk with Wynne tomorrow about just what a recovering Warden needed. He wondered if Aedan was faring any better with _his_ healer.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I told you, not until you are recovered," Morrigan said sternly, swatting his hand away from her thigh before resuming her task of applying salve on his back.

Aedan sighed. Maker, what did his witch expect when she was straddling his hips in his bed while he was only wearing his smallclothes? Yes, it was supposedly for the purpose of healing, but when it was the woman he loved and hadn't touched in weeks that was doing the healing, it was awfully hard for a man to control himself. "And how long is that going to be?" he grumbled, his head turned sideways as he lay face down. "I feel fine right now. You said my wounds are closed over."

"'Twill be a couple of days, I suspect." She carefully massaged more salve over his shoulders, and he stifled a moan at the sensation. It was not only relaxing, but electric, the way it always was when she touched him. "The wounds are closed, but your body still needs to recover from the trauma. So you must rest until it has."

"You know," he began mischievously, slowly creeping his hand back to her leg again, "I would rest a lot better if you let me –"

"I will not," she said firmly, whacking his hand a good deal harder this time, making him unable to stifle a yelp. "And if you wish me to let you ever again, Aedan Cousland, you will listen."

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, not doubting that Morrigan would make good on her threat if he pushed her too much. Or, at least, she would make him wait a lot longer than a couple of days before he would be able to talk his way under her skirt again. "But you, my pretty witch, had better be ready for the consequences of making me wait."

"Oh, and what might those be?" she asked in a bored tone, though she rocked her hips ever so slightly, making him groan at the jolt of lust that passed through him.

"You'll see," he growled when he could think straight again. "I'll keep you trapped in this bed, begging me for more until _you_ need time to recover."

"Promises, promises," Morrigan drawled, rubbing a bit more of the salve into his lower back. "There, 'tis all done for today." She climbed off the bed, allowing him to sit up.

He turned to face her, able to catch the bit of concern in her eyes as it took him a moment longer than it might otherwise have done to sit up. Even with the salve, his back still felt tender and sore. He smiled, genuinely pleased as he always was when he actually caught sight of her true feelings for him. "Thank you, by the way," he told her sincerely. "For the healing _and_ the rescue."

She flushed, shifting her gaze away from his. "You . . . are most welcome," she said at last. "But 'twas only –"

"Your duty," he said with a sigh. "I know." Even after her confession that she did indeed love him, she still always tried to maintain a distance from him. He didn't know why she still fought so hard, but he had only to remember her reaction to the plan of leaving him behind to know she'd meant what she said about loving him. The only thing that had gotten her to agree was appealing to her practical nature and reminding her of the fact that he had the ring and she could track him down as soon as she'd escaped. And she'd still been reluctant to leave him behind, even so.

"Perhaps . . . not only that," she admitted after a long moment. He looked up at her in surprise. "'Twas maybe not only that you are valuable to the Blight, but also valuable . . . to me. So, I could not let them do as they pleased to you."

"Morrigan . . ." He was touched at her words, at the fact that she was being openly and willingly vulnerable to him. And he could not help but feel guilty all over again that he was still lying to her about what had happened with Flemeth, even after she'd risked her life to save him from Fort Drakon. It was time to tell her the truth, and beg her forgiveness, he decided. "I . . . have to tell you something."

"What is it?" Her gaze was suddenly wary, suspicious, as she met his eyes, and she had every right to be both those things, he admitted to himself.

"When I went to confront Flemeth – we didn't actually fight or defeat her. I would have," he assured her quickly, pleading with his eyes for her to believe him as he kept going before she could interrupt, "if I believed she meant you any harm. But she promised that she would not do anything against your will, and that she would leave you alone for now. And I believed her, I truly did. So . . . though you had asked me . . . I could not risk our friend's lives to fight her. If it had just been my life, I would have, but . . ." he shook his head. "Not theirs too. Not when I didn't believe it necessary. I should not have lied to you, but . . . I was afraid. I was afraid you wouldn't forgive me for not doing as you'd asked. But I can't keep lying to you. Not anymore, not after you risked your life to come save me. So please, Morrigan, if you can . . . please forgive me."

She stared at him for a very long moment, for an eternity, really, it seemed to him, her expression as unreadable as he'd ever seen it. He wanted to get out of the bed, to go to her and convince her with his body, not just his words, but he wasn't sure how she would react, so he stayed where he was, praying she would say something.

"She claimed she would not do anything against my will? That she would leave me alone?" Morrigan asked at last. He couldn't quite decipher her tone, either, but she didn't sound angry.

He nodded. "She did, and Ayla believed her also. You know she is quite good at reading intentions. We both believed her. And she was willing to give up the grimoire, as well."

"Yes, Ayla is quite skilled at that, but my mother is equally skilled at manipulation. Still, I am certain you both truly believed her, or you would not have let the matter lie. Whether she truly meant it or not, that is what I do not know. However . . ." Morrigan hesitated, looking away again for a moment before continuing, "I am grateful that you did not confront her. After you had left, I could not stop thinking about how, even did you manage to defeat her, she was certain to have some way of returning. I . . . worried . . . about the fact that I had sent the two people I cared about the most to their possible deaths for no more than a brief respite. I regretted doing so, and I was more relieved than I had believed possible to see you both return safely. Besides that, the grimoire was the most important part, so, I am glad that you did not fight her, Aedan."

"You are?" He could hardly believe it, but when she nodded, his heart felt lighter than it had been in weeks, or perhaps even lighter than it had been since this whole thing began. He was off the bed in seconds, pulling her into his arms just to hold her, relieved beyond measure when she let him. He held her tightly to him, relishing in the feeling for a moment before pulling back to look at her. "Then . . . you forgive me?"

"I do," she agreed, smiling slightly when he beamed at her. "As long as you promise me something in return."

"Anything, of course," he replied instantly. He would give her anything she wanted, if she forgave him for this. The guilt had been eating him up for weeks; it was one of the toughest decisions he'd made yet during his leadership of their party, and that was saying something. He would do anything to lift that burden off his shoulders now, to have his lovely witch happy with him again.

"Simply . . . remember that I forgave you," she said slowly, not meeting his gaze, even when he ducked his head to try to look in her eyes to see what she was thinking. "I may find myself in need of your forgiveness, one day, as well."

"Of course." Even as he said it, he wondered what she thought he might not forgive her for. _Was_ she still hiding something from him? Alistair seemed certain she had some ulterior motive for coming along with them, but Aedan had always dismissed the notion, knowing his Warden brother's dislike for Morrigan. Still, perhaps he was right; he could not think of any other possible reason Morrigan would extract that promise from him. But he had asked Ayla before, and she was certain Morrigan did not pose them any danger; so what could she possibly be hiding? Well, she would tell him when she was ready, he decided at last. In the meantime, he had something else that he needed to ask her.

"Morrigan," he began slowly, knowing that this might be too soon, but needing to find out now, "what do you intend to do when this is over? Would you be willing to . . . stay with me?"

She stared at him in shock, backing away from him, wearing the same expression she'd worn the day she'd asked him to let her go and he'd refused; that trapped, panicked expression. "I – Aedan – I –" she stopped, shaking her head, seemingly unable to put her feelings into words.

"I love you," he told her when she didn't say anything further, "and I know you love me. I'm not asking you to say that you will marry me or anything. I just want to know if you'd ever consider a more permanent arrangement, if it would ever be . . . something that you could do."

"I . . . no," she replied finally. "You . . . would wish to remain at court, would you not?" When he nodded, reluctantly, she went on, "I thought as much. I could not remain in any one place for that length of time, certainly not with so many people I care nothing for. Not even for you. However . . . were you willing to travel whenever and wherever I might have to go, especially if my mother should come looking for me . . . I would stay with you, then." She couldn't quite meet his eyes, and her face was flushed red by the end of her statement, but he knew she meant it, and it broke his heart.

It broke his heart because he couldn't say yes. He had suspected they might come to this impasse for a long time now, but that still didn't mean he was prepared for it now that it had happened. He would be happy with that arrangement for a while, he knew, but eventually he would come to regret it. He knew himself too well; he was too ambitious, he would never be content with a nomadic life where he couldn't change anything, couldn't help anyone, and would never have any sort of power. He wanted to change Ferelden, to make it better, to help the people more than he'd already been able to. He'd enjoyed the taste of leadership he'd gotten during the Blight so far; he just didn't want to be the leader of the Wardens. No, his ambitions were greater than that. That was why he'd had to talk to Morrigan before he talked to Anora.

He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her gently. "I wish I could say yes," he told her sadly, his heart aching with what he had to say. "I really do, but . . . I want to have power. I want to change things, and I could not do that if I left with you. I love you more than anyone, Morrigan, but I cannot live a directionless life, even for you. But . . . if you would agree . . . could we still be together, sometimes? If your travels ever brought you near Denerim, or if I ever travel somewhere close to you, if we could arrange to meet on occasion . . . I would take whatever I can have with you, if you're willing."

She looked up at him, crossing her arms, seeming to be weighing her options, and he held his breath, praying. "Would this mean that I might have to share you with another? That I may end up as your mistress?"

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, knowing her views on sharing. "But you would not be sharing my heart with another, I can promise you that. If I wed another woman, it will be for political advantage only, not for love. It will always be you that I will truly wish to be married to." _And you that I think of when I'm in her bed_ , he added silently, but he doubted that would be something she would want to hear. "I know how selfish this is of me to ask, but . . . I did warn you that I was selfish, that I wasn't willing to give you up. However, if you want to be my wife instead, to be a nobleman's wife, I will happily give that to you. You have only to ask." He wished she would say yes, but he knew that was against her nature, as much as leaving here was against his.

She shook her head slowly, and the sadness he could read deep in her eyes, though she was trying hard to veil it, was the one that was reflected in his own heart. "I could not. As much as part of me might wish it, I cannot remain here with you, confined in a life I would otherwise hate save the moments we would be together. I could not pretend to be someone I am not, to deny my nature as a mage, for fear they would try to put me in one of those Circles. I would die before I would allow that." She sighed. "However, I . . . do not think I can live entirely without you, either."

"Then . . . does that mean . . .?" He could hardly believe that she might agree to that arrangement, as much as he'd wished for it. He'd honestly expected her to say no, and figured that he might have to track her down later when he was missing her desperately and beg her to agree this time. Even if she agreed, it would still not be an ideal situation, or the happy ending he might wish for, but it would be the best he could do, the best compromise he could hope for. It was the only way out he could see that would not end with him completely hating one aspect of his life.

She nodded, slowly. "I will agree to be your mistress, yes. As long as you swear to me that I will be the only one that holds your heart, the only one that you truly desire." She met his gaze, her eyes burning with intensity. "Will you swear it?"

"I will," he vowed, no doubt in his mind as he held his hand over his heart. He'd been with many women before he met her, but there had been something different about her from the start, and he'd been lost in short order. He knew with absolute certainty he would never feel about another woman the way he felt about her; he never had before, and he never would again. "I swear it on the honor of the Couslands; my heart is always yours, Morrigan."

"Then I will be yours, whenever we might have the opportunity to meet," she answered quietly, though he could see the conviction in her eyes matched his, and it warmed him, even as his heart ached for the lost opportunity of marrying her. Still, one of the reasons he loved her was because she was not the sort of woman he was normally accustomed to, that wanted nothing more than to trap him in marriage and be a noblewoman; how could he deny that part of her just because it did not lead to the outcome he'd hoped for?

"Thank you, my lovely witch. You have no idea how much this means to me," he whispered, before claiming her mouth with his much more fiercely than he had before. She responded in kind as he pulled her tightly to him, and he could feel her passion matching his as their tongues duelled together.

As the kiss went on, he almost thought she'd forgotten about her vow to make him rest, until he slid his hand under the skirt of the red dress she still wore and she pulled away abruptly, shaking her head at him. "I allowed the kiss, but I will not allow anything more until you have rested," she scolded him.

He shrugged and smiled, though he had to admit to being disappointed. "Can't blame a man for trying, can you?"

She sniffed. "I can and I will, if you attempt it again before I grant you permission. Now, I shall go to fetch you something to eat. You had better remain here to rest while I am gone." She fixed him with a pointed glare before sweeping from the room.

He waited for a moment to be sure she wasn't coming back immediately before he found himself a tunic and breeches, dressing as swiftly as he could. He was sure he would regret it when his pretty witch returned, but he wanted to talk to the Arl before the night was over. Morrigan had ushered him straight to his room when he got back, and he had not had an opportunity to discuss the next plan of attack with the Arl or Anora yet. He wouldn't be able to rest comfortably until he'd settled things as much as possible for the night, so he would have to risk Morrigan's wrath. After all, the Arl's study wasn't far, and he was only going to talk. It was pretty much like resting, he reasoned with himself, hoping she would see it that way as he slipped out of his room, heading down the hallway to the study.

He was relieved when he arrived at the study to find both the Arl and Anora already there discussing the Landsmeet. He would still need to have a talk with Anora later away from Eamon, but for now, it would save him time to be able to speak with both of them.

The Arl stood up as soon as he entered the room. "Maker's breath! It's good to see you in one piece, my friend. How are you feeling? Does Alistair fare well?"

"Indeed," Anora added, smiling brightly when she saw him. "We have been praying for your safe return, Aedan. As well as Alistair's, of course."

"I'm feeling quite well, thank you," he replied, bowing slightly to the Arl. "Morrigan has healed all my wounds. Wynne was working on Alistair, and as she is an excellent healer, I am certain he's feeling much better, also." He turned to Anora. "I am most glad to see you are all right, Anora."

He meant it, sincerely; he was relieved to see that she had made it back safely and was looking more like the Anora he'd always known, wearing a high-waisted, multi-colored silk dress with her blonde hair up in braided buns. She had once been one of his closest friends in childhood along with Cailan; the three of them had often played together while their fathers had met to discuss matters of state over the years. At one time, he had even thought he was in love with Anora; he knew now it had merely been a boy's crush, but he still cared a great deal about her. If he had to protect her even from her own father, he would.

She smiled, her blue eyes warm as she answered, "I was . . . uncertain you would respond as you did, considering the consequences of your rescuing me. I am glad you did. Thank you."

"Of course," he said. "My priority was getting you and the others out of there safely, whatever the consequences. And now that we're all back, what happened matters little."

She nodded, looking relieved as she went on, "Now that you have been rescued, we must work together, and quickly. My father has gone mad. I didn't believe it at first, but he is gripped by a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense. He saw me as a threat, yet even now I'm certain he will be telling the nobles you are dangerous murderers that have kidnapped and mind-controlled me. He may even believe it."

Aedan nodded slowly. He was unsurprised to hear Anora's take on her father's state of mind. The more he heard about what Loghain had been doing lately, the more certain he was that Ferelden's hero general was no longer the man he had once been. "I suppose the most important question would be, can he still take the throne without you?"

Anora frowned. "Perhaps. It will be more difficult for him, but if my father says the Grey Wardens are the enemy, many will believe it. He is a legend."

"It's true," Eamon agreed. "Our position in the Landsmeet is not strong, and this does little to help us."

"We did find a few things while we were rescuing Anora that will help," Aedan informed the Arl. He didn't want to think about Howe any more than he had to, about how alarmingly good it had felt to make him pay, but they _had_ come across some useful information in his dungeons.

"At least that snake Howe is dead," Anora remarked scornfully. "That alone will not be enough, however. My father is committed to his path. You will need ammunition for the Landsmeet, and there I can help."

"Go on," Aedan prompted. "We could use more help, I'm sure, even with what we have found out so far."

"You have only just arrived in the city, so perhaps you are unaware of some . . . recent events," Anora said hesitantly. "Denerim has been in turmoil since Ostagar. Many people here are angry or grieving. Strangely, the unrest is worst in the alienage. Few elves accompanied the army. They should have little reason to be upset. Which means that Howe and my father must have given them reason. I don't know what is happening there, but I am certain my father has his hands in it."

"A useful lead, Anora," Eamon replied, giving her a sceptical look as he went on, "but . . . you could have sent this information with your maid."

"That is true," Anora conceded, dipping her head in acknowledgment. "I feared for my safety as Howe's prisoner, but to tell the truth I sent Erlina to you because I hoped we might join forces. You need that evidence for the Landsmeet, but you also need a stronger candidate for the throne. You need me."

Aedan smiled. He'd suspected that had been Anora's plan all along, and indeed, it was just what he'd hoped for, though he could see the Arl looked less than pleased. Though he personally believed Anora was right about being a strong candidate, he couldn't resist needling her just as he used to when they were younger. "Just how are you a stronger candidate, pray tell?"

She flashed him the scowl he remembered so well, as if suspecting exactly what he was doing, as she replied haughtily, "I have no doubt Alistair is biddable enough, and decent, but even with his blood he is no king. You think only I can see it? Not only that, Alistair is a Grey Warden. It will look like you are trying to put a Grey Warden on the throne, despite your claims. I am a neutral party – and I am already queen."

Eamon looked positively disgruntled now as he began, "Anora, you are indeed Cailan's widow, but . . ."

"I am the daughter of Ferelden's greatest general," Anora cut him off, and Aedan nearly laughed at the expression on Eamon's face as she let loose on him. "Who do you think truly ruled this nation for the last five years? Cailan? I am what this country needs, not an untrained king who does not even want the throne. I can help you stop my father. Consider what I have said." She turned to Aedan, and he quickly assumed a more sober expression as she said, "For now, I think I will retire to my room for the night. Aedan, when you have a moment, I ask that you speak to me in private."

"Of course, Anora, I'd be happy to," he told her. "I will likely come by sometime tomorrow." She nodded at him before sweeping out of the room, head high.

"Well, she's quite . . . spirited," the Arl remarked, looking distinctly unimpressed as he watched her go. "I remember when Loghain first brought her to Denerim. Poor Cailan was a good boy, but Anora was always two steps ahead. Had him jumping when she snapped since the first time she batted her eyelashes. You, as well, if I recall." He glanced significantly at Aedan, who merely shrugged in reply. It was true enough; once he would have done anything for Anora, but it had been a long time since then, and she had chosen Cailan over him. Besides, he was a completely different person now. "I cannot help thinking she may be trouble," Eamon continued when he didn't rise to the bait. "But we should keep her close, all the same."

"Oh? Why do you think she's trouble?" Aedan knew perfectly well why Eamon was concerned, of course. Anora was a threat to the Arl's plan to put Alistair on the throne – which was exactly what he needed her for. He wasn't about to let his brother be miserable just because the Arl thought it was the best thing for him and Ferelden. Alistair, he knew, would be much happier as a Warden, married to Ayla. And if he had his way, Alistair was going to take over his place as Warden Commander, if all went according to plan with the Landsmeet and the Blight. He just had to get Anora to agree, and keep Eamon in the dark until he was ready.

"This is an alliance of convenience – for the moment we are united against Loghain. I know you were childhood friends, but be careful how much trust you place in her," Eamon warned as he took his seat at his desk again. "I do not for a moment think Anora means to give up her power easily. Still, I would rather have her where we can watch her than actively working for Loghain."

Aedan nodded. On that, at least, they were in agreement; Anora was better off here than with Loghain. "I will take some of the others to find out what Loghain is doing in the Alienage as soon as my healer pronounces me well enough. We will see if we can get to the bottom of whatever he is doing. I should head back now before Morrigan comes looking for me."

"Of course," the Arl replied. "If I might make a suggestion: Go speak with Anora as soon as you are able. She will either be a powerful ally, or a powerful enemy, and the sooner we know which she is, the better."

"Do not worry," Aedan told him as he went to leave the study. "I will talk to her tomorrow." He had an awful lot to discuss with Anora, after all. She was at the heart of all his plans; he just had to convince her to go along with them. He wanted to go talk to her right now, but he suspected that he had pushed Morrigan enough for one day. With that in mind, he headed back to his room to face her wrath for not having stayed put as he was supposed to. There would be time enough to talk to Anora later.


	49. Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan goes to speak to Anora and makes a surprising proposal in exchange for supporting her bid for the throne. Alistair and Ayla spend some time alone together after he is pronounced healed enough, and Alistair comes to an important decision about their future. While looking into ways to win the Landsmeet, the party is ambushed by Crows looking for Zevran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some smut in this one, it's in the middle section so skip down to the following break if you would rather not read it.

Chapter 48: Future Plans

True to his word, Aedan went to speak to Anora the next afternoon just before supper. Morrigan had been annoyed with him to start with last night, but after he'd explained that he had only gone a short distance to speak to the Arl about the plan for the next few days, she had finally let up on him, as long as he promised to rest for the remainder of the night. He had, of course, not wanting to push her more than necessary.

She'd wanted him to remain in bed all day today, as well, and he had until she'd left to go searching for more potions and herbs along with Ayla. As soon as he was certain she'd left, he'd headed for Anora's room. He had promised to visit her today, after all, and he felt sure he could get back before Morrigan returned and noticed he was gone and once again not listening to her. He wanted to have all his plans set before he was pronounced healed and had to resume his duties looking into ways to win the Landsmeet.

He knocked on Anora's door, and when he heard the call of "Enter, please," he pushed the door open and strode inside, shutting it carefully behind him.

Anora smiled when she saw it was him, standing up and crossing the room to him. "Aedan, I am glad that you came to speak with me. How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, actually," he replied, which was true enough; even he was surprised at how fast he was recovering. He felt nearly back to normal, and was determined to get back to work tomorrow, though he wasn't sure Morrigan would agree that he was ready. He would just have to persuade her that he was. "I am nearly back to myself, and thought we should talk before I begin looking into matters tomorrow."

"Indeed," Anora agreed, continuing hesitantly, her eyes shining brightly with tears, "first, let me begin by saying . . . I am most sorry for your loss, Aedan. I know it has been some time since I saw your family, but I will miss them, all the same. Particularly your mother. I . . . what Howe did was . . . unforgivable. How fitting that he died at your hands."

He cleared his throat, trying to suppress the tears and grief that burned at him, and the rage that still wanted to swallow his heart whenever he thought of Howe. Anora and his mother had been close, when they were children; he knew Anora had admired her greatly. She had always gotten along well with his family, so he knew she felt their loss as keenly as he did, and that made it harder to suppress his own feelings.

"Thank you," he replied at last, when he trusted his voice again. "I . . . am sorry about Cailan, as well. I know it had been years since we spoke, until I saw him at Ostagar . . ." he hesitated briefly, remembering that meeting. Cailan had welcomed him with open arms, happy enough to see him despite the way they had left things years ago, and had immediately expressed his condolences and promised to make Howe pay when he had explained what had happened to his family. He was grateful that he'd at least had the chance to make things up with Cailan before he'd died. "But . . . he was still my friend, and I will miss him," he finished at last.

"I – thank you, Aedan." Her voice wavered slightly as she finished quietly, "I will miss him, as well. Did you . . . make things up between you, at least, before he . . .?"

He nodded. "We did, thankfully. It is one of the few things I have to be grateful for about Ostagar."

She inclined her head slightly. "I am glad to hear it, and sorry for my part in what happened between you."

Even though he knew now that he hadn't really loved her, not the way that he loved Morrigan, he still found himself curious enough to ask, "Did you truly love Cailan more than me? Or was it that he was going to be king, and your father wished for that match more?"

She stared at him for such a long moment that he nearly apologized for bringing it up before she answered, "I . . . loved you both equally, really. It was difficult for me to choose, so in the end, I decided on Cailan because I would have more power as his wife, be able to do more as a queen than –"

"As the wife of a second son?" Aedan finished wryly. He couldn't blame her for that answer, and had suspected it might have been something like that. It was one of the reasons he'd always been slightly bitter about being the "spare", so to speak, because he had felt sure it had cost him the girl he thought he'd loved at the time. Now, after what had happened to his family, and Fergus, and finding real love, that bitterness seemed insignificant, and he often wished he could go back to being the "spare".

"Yes," Anora admitted, looking slightly ashamed. "Still, I regret that my decision hurt you, and that it drove you and Cailan apart. You and I, as well. I should have made my decision sooner, and not been so indecisive. It caused you unnecessary pain -"

"It's in the past, now, Anora," he interrupted her gently. There was no need for her to apologize so much, as his feelings had long since ceased being hurt over it. "And in the end, it made me who I am now, so it was for the best, I think. I'd like to put it behind us, if we could. I know I said some hurtful things, as well, when you told me you were marrying Cailan, and that I do regret."

"I do not blame you for that," she assured him, crossing the last bit of distance between them. She had started to reach for him, almost automatically before she hesitated, so he drew her close, hugging her, figuring they could both use it. She continued softly, "You were hurt, and not yourself at the time. But yes, I would like to put everything behind us, and be friends as we once were. I missed you, and I was devastated when I heard what happened, because at first I believed you had perished along with your family, and I would never have the chance to make things right with you. When I heard that you might still be alive, I was so grateful . . ." her voice broke, and he felt her tears staining his tunic. "I thought I had lost both you and Cailan . . ."

"Shh, I'm still here," he murmured, holding her close as he soothed her. He realized how hard it must have been for her, thinking she had lost both of them, when they had once all been so close, and so he could not begrudge her the comfort she sought, especially when he could use some, as well. She was the only person he had left who had known him before all this, he realized, and that made him want to mend things between them more than ever. "I had actually been meaning to visit you both, and make things right for some time now, once I had gotten over my wounded pride. But . . . I wasn't sure where to begin, and so I kept putting it off. I'm sorry I was not there for you."

"It is all right. You are here now." So saying, Anora stepped back from him, clearing her throat and wiping away any remaining trace of tears, looking faintly embarrassed. He knew she hated appearing weak, and it was only because they were old friends and she had been through such a difficult time lately that she had broken down at all. And, he knew, she would do her best to make him forget that it had occurred.

True to his suspicions, she went on briskly, "Well, we should discuss the Landsmeet, now. My father must be stopped, but once that is done Ferelden will need a ruler. What is your plan, Aedan? I know you have one in mind, already. You always did have one, even when we were children trying to raid the larder. My question is, once my father is stopped, will you support my bid for the throne? Or do you intend to back Alistair?"

He smiled. How typical of her, to put everything so bluntly. "You're right, I do have a plan. And as it happens, I'd been hoping all along that I could convince you to take the throne without your father. Alistair actually has absolutely no interest in taking the throne. We've only been going along with Eamon for appearance's sake, so he would not support your father."

"Oh?" Anora raised her eyebrows, looking surprised. "What makes Alistair so determined not to press his claim, that he would actually oppose Arl Eamon?"

"Well, for one, he has no interest in politics," Aedan replied, shrugging. "But, mainly, it's because he could not marry as he wishes, if he were to take the throne."

"Do not tell me he wishes to marry that barbaric woman who threatened to kill me if he did not return from Fort Drakon," Anora scoffed, looking mildly disgusted.

Aedan just barely stifled a laugh. He could easily imagine Ayla losing her temper, and Anora's reaction, and how poorly the two of them would get on. "Actually, yes," he managed. "You will have to excuse her; she merely lost her temper because she was scared for him. She is not ordinarily like that."

"Hmmph," Anora snorted, looking at him sceptically. "I suppose I shall take your word for it, then. It _was_ an upsetting situation. At any rate, that means you will support my bid for the throne, as long as my father is not Regent?"

"It does," Aedan agreed. "I did have another idea, if you are willing. If you are not, I would understand."

"What might that be?" Anora asked, eyeing him warily.

Well, it was now or never, he decided. Time to see if he could bring his ambitions to pass, or not. "I thought you might wish to have a strong king at your side, as well. If not, I had hoped to at least regain Highever for my family."

She was staring at him in surprise, her eyes wide, even as he could see the wheels turning as she considered it. "Aedan, I – know we used to be . . . it is . . . tempting. You . . . are of Cousland blood, it's true, despite the fact that you are also a Grey Warden. It would be unprecedented, but . . . you _were_ the only other man I ever considered marrying. Is this what you are actually proposing? My hand for your support?" she demanded at last, hands on her hips as she faced him.

"It is," he nodded, meeting her gaze steadily. "And we would be equal partners; I would not try to take control away from you, if that is your concern. I would wish you to continue on as you have been, while I do my best to help you, and our country. I think the two of us united would be good for Ferelden."

"I believe we would," she agreed slowly, "but . . . do you not have someone else you might wish to be with, now? You and that Morrigan woman seemed . . . close."

"Come now, Anora," he replied, keeping his face as expressionless as possible. He was good at concealing his emotions, but Anora had once been very good at reading him nonetheless. "Surely you have heard the rumours about me and how my bed is rarely empty? Yes, I have been with many women over the years, but none of them meant anything to me." Which was completely true. "And Morrigan and I entered into our dalliance with the understanding that it was never going to be permanent." Which was also entirely true; they had just unexpectedly happened to fall in love later. He wasn't about to tell Anora that, however. She would never agree to this arrangement if she suspected his heart lay elsewhere. And if Morrigan would not marry him, Anora was the only other woman he would ever consider, particularly as marrying her lined up so neatly with his ambitions to help Ferelden.

"Are you certain?" she pressed, studying him carefully. "She seemed rather upset at having to leave you behind to be arrested."

He had nearly forgotten that she'd seen that argument between him and Morrigan, though he doubted she had overheard the entire thing, as they'd done their best to stay quiet. "She is very dedicated to the mission," he answered, which was also true, "and believes that I am valuable to the cause of defeating the Blight. She often argues any plan that involves me putting the overall mission at risk, which that plan did," he admitted, reluctantly. Looking back on it now, they could have lost everything if the others hadn't succeeded in getting him and Alistair out safely. "I could have gotten the only Wardens left in all of Ferelden killed if it hadn't gone well."

"That _was_ very risky," Anora agreed, regarding him sternly, before asking, "So, she would not object to you marrying me, then?"

"No," he replied. He had been straightforward with Morrigan regarding the fact that he was likely to end up married to another woman for political gain, and that she would end up his mistress. He doubted that she knew it would happen so soon, but he had never lied to her about it, and he fully intended to keep his vow to her. "Do we have a deal, then?"

Anora regarded him for a long moment before nodding. "I suppose, yes. It is too good an opportunity to pass up, and I could use you by my side. Once the Landsmeet is finished and my bid is won, we will wed. So, we have a deal, Aedan. Now, I suppose, comes the task of dealing with my father. That will be no small feat, of course, but I am certain you already know this."

"Of course, I do." Aedan sighed as he thought of all he still had to do to make sure they came out the victors, not Loghain. "However, I did pick up some valuable information in Howe's dungeons which should help tip the scales our way. And tomorrow, I intend to go to the alienage if possible, and discover what might be going on there. I will let you know, but for now, I should be getting back. I'm supposed to be resting." He grinned mischievously at her, pleased when he got an answering smile.

"Well, I should let you get back to resting, then." She waved her hand at him. "Go on, but do come to visit me again, when you can. I _have_ missed you, and if we are to be wed, we should get to know one another again."

He nodded. "I missed you, too," he told her, sincerely. It had been tough on him, all those years ago, losing both his best friends at once. At least he could get one of them back, now. "I will come by whenever I can manage it." He lifted her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her fingers, remembering how she had always liked that, and sure enough, her face flushed slightly. "Good night, Anora."

"Good night, Aedan," she replied. "Do be careful, when you go to visit the alienage."

"I will," he promised her, before turning and leaving the room. He hoped he would still manage to get back before Morrigan did; he didn't want to deal with her wrath more than he had to. And he would have to tell her, eventually, what his future plans were, now that they were solidified. He was hoping to put it off as long as possible, however, not wanting to put a damper on things between them right now. He could wait a few days, at least, he reasoned as he headed back to his room. He just hoped she truly would understand, once she found out who he was marrying and why.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alistair groaned inwardly, trying to decide if he wanted Ayla to stop or not. She was driving him insane, massaging that salve into his back, but it was a pleasant kind of insanity, he had to admit.

In some ways, it was soothing and relaxing, the massage releasing the tenseness in the muscles of his shoulders and back as she went. The salve itself was also very soothing, spreading a delicious coolness along the skin on his back. But the feel of her soft hands and fingers all over his back, of her straddling him as she massaged him, was not soothing at all.

No, it was causing his whole body to tingle, and fire to race through his veins, and he was once again achingly hard for her. As far as he was concerned, he was more than healed enough to be exerting himself with her; he actually felt great, right now. The tenderness of his back was almost entirely gone, even though it had only been a day, and all the food he'd eaten and rest he'd gotten over the past day had gone a long way to making him feel like himself again. He wanted nothing more than to flip over right now and show her how much better he felt.

But he'd promised her he would behave until Wynne pronounced him fully healed, and in spite of his pestering the elderly mage earlier when she'd come to check on him while Ayla was out with Morrigan getting more herbs, she had refused to give him a yes or no answer to the question of whether he was well enough. And then Ayla had returned with this salve that she wanted to massage onto his back, and how could he say no to that? Even though he was pretty certain Morrigan had told her to use it with the express purpose of driving him insane.

Ayla chose that moment to shift a little further forward on his back, allowing her to reach the top of his shoulders as she kneaded the muscles there, and this time he couldn't suppress his groan, shifting under her. Maker, he loved those long, shapely legs of hers, and to feel them on either side of his back without being buried between them was nothing short of painful.

"I'm sorry, Alistair," she exclaimed, her hands halting when she heard his groan. "Did that hurt? I'm probably not doing this right."

"No, you're doing just fine, believe me," he assured her, trying to lift his head enough to look back at her. "It didn't hurt. I'm just . . . maybe you should stop before I break my promise to behave myself."

"Oh." She laughed softly. "And here I thought this was supposed to be relaxing; that's what Morrigan said, anyway."

"I'll bet she did," Alistair grumbled, trying to ignore the fact that she was still straddling him.

And then suddenly, he could feel her warm breath on his ear as she leaned over him, a sly, teasing note in her voice, "Do you mean to tell me you're not feeling relaxed? That you're still . . . feeling _tense_?"

That was it; he couldn't take it anymore, not with her teasing him like that. He flipped over abruptly beneath her, causing her to squeak in surprise and nearly become unseated before he steadied her with his hands at her waist. She was now straddling his erection, and he flexed his hips up ever so slightly, loving the sharp breath she drew in when he rubbed against her. "Yeah, I'm still tense," he growled at her. "And I'm about to overexert myself if you don't leave _right now_."

"Didn't I tell you?" she asked, widening her eyes innocently. "Just before I came in here, I saw Wynne. She said if you didn't stop pestering her, she was going to undo all her hard work, so as far as she was concerned, you can do whatever you like now."

"What?" he demanded incredulously, tightening his grip on her waist. "Were you planning on telling me this at some point?"

"Eventually," she replied, smirking at him as she reached down, grasping the hem of her tunic and pulling it over her head, tossing it aside. "I wanted to see how long it would take for you to crack first."

He rolled her beneath him, pinning her body to the bed with his even as he pinned her wrists to either side of her head. "Punishing me again, were you?" he murmured against her skin, nipping at her neck.

"What if I was?" she asked breathlessly as he made his way down past her collarbone towards her breastband. "Are you going to do something about it?" She gasped as he nipped her hard, grinding his hips against her at the same time.

"Maybe I will." He let go of her wrists to shove the breastband down out of his way, not even bothering to unravel it as he buried his face between the softness of her breasts for a second before suckling hard on one nipple, rolling the other between his fingers. She moaned, arching against him, gripping his head tightly in her hands. "Maybe," he raised his head just enough to look at her, loving the heat in her green eyes, "I'll see how long it takes _you_ to crack, to beg me for more."

"Is that a promise – oh," she sucked in a breath sharply as he bit lightly at her nipple, flicking his thumb over the other at the same time. He gave her no time to recover, prying her hands gently away from his head before he began nibbling his way down her stomach towards the waist of her leggings.

"It absolutely is," he told her as he slipped the leggings off her along with her smallclothes, trailing his hands down the length of her gorgeous legs as he did so. "I want to hear you begging me, love."

"Do you, now?" Her eyes were dark with lust as she watched him toss her leggings aside, pushing her legs apart as he slowly nibbled his way up the inside of her thigh. He wanted to torment her, as she had done him; it was only fair, after all. "You'd better – oh, Goddess!"

He had reached the top of her thigh and wasted no time in losing himself in the taste of her, burying his tongue deep within her, pinning her hips down as she bucked against his mouth. He'd dearly missed that taste; she was so sweet, so intoxicating, and the sounds she made as he pleasured her with his tongue were like the most incredible music he'd ever heard. The way she screamed his name as he sucked hard on that sensitive nub of hers and she exploded around him was even better.

He kissed his way slowly back up her body as she panted, trying to recover her breath. This time, he unravelled the breastband and got it out of his way before licking at her nipple, then blowing lightly at the moisture he'd created there. "Alistair," she growled, gripping his head tightly and tugging on his hair to get his attention.

"Yes, my love, what is it?" He grinned up at her smugly, enjoying the half-dazed, half-annoyed look she was giving him, and couldn't resist cupping her, sliding a finger through her folds. She squirmed at his touch, gasping, arching against him.

It was his turn to moan, however, when she bit down hard on the juncture of his neck and shoulder to gain his attention again. His hand froze as the lust jolted through him, and he quickly tangled his other hand in her hair, pulling her head back to meet her gaze. "Please, Alistair," she said softly. "I need you. I miss feeling you inside me."

He'd thought that he was hard enough to nearly burst already, but hearing her say that made him groan aloud at the arousal that coursed through him, making him ache and throb for her. He let go of her long enough to strip off the smallclothes he'd still been wearing, before he returned to his place between her legs, thrusting deeply inside of her. She cried out, and he moaned her name, feeling as though he might go cross-eyed from the sensation of her warmth closing around him.

He kissed her hard, demandingly, even as he drove deeply into her and her legs closed tightly around his hips, as her hips and tongue met his, stroke for stroke. He broke away from her mouth when he couldn't breathe any longer, panting as their rhythm grew fast and frenzied. "Ayla, Maker, I missed this," he groaned into her neck, feeling the pressure in his body wind tighter, the fires of his desire burn hotter. "I missed feeling you all around me . . ."

"Me too," she answered breathlessly. "Alistair, I . . . was afraid I'd lost you, that we might never do this again . . ."

"Never," he growled in her ear, nipping at her earlobe as he tried to drive even further into her, gripping her bottom to pull her tighter into him, feeling her start to shudder around him. "You'll never lose me."

She clamped down tightly around him only seconds later, crying out as she clung to him, biting down on his shoulder again, and the combination of the two sensations was enough to finish him off. He thrust hard into her, one last time, before his release hit him and he drained into her, shuddering. He collapsed on top of her, his face pressed into the crook of her neck as he tried to catch his breath and think straight once more.

When he felt her trying to shift beneath him a few moments later, he quickly rolled off of her, lying on his back next to her. "Sorry," he apologized. "I was probably crushing you, wasn't I?"

She smiled, rolling over so she was tucked against his side, pillowing her head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around her. "I didn't mind, actually." She grinned slyly up at him as she traced a finger over his chest. "How are you feeling? Did you . . . overexert yourself?"

He laughed, catching her hand with his free one. "I feel great, actually. I'm ready to do it all over again."

She raised her eyebrows, looking at him doubtfully, and he amended, "After resting for a little bit, that is."

She chuckled softly. "That's what I thought. Really, though, you are feeling okay? Your back's not still tender?"

"Honestly, I'm fine," he told her, touched at her concern for him as he pressed a gentle kiss to the hand he still held. "My back is almost completely normal. The salve really helped," he added, winking at her.

"I'm sure it did," she answered wryly, looking amused. "So," she said slowly after another minute, her gaze suddenly serious, "I'm never going to lose you?"

"That's right," he confirmed, squeezing her lightly. Really, he knew he shouldn't be making that kind of vow to her before the Blight was over. But he'd decided that he would just have to do his best to keep it, to make it through no matter what, because he didn't ever want to leave her. "You're stuck with me, now. I'm sure Aedan will succeed at talking Anora into taking the throne without her father, so you're never getting rid of me."

She nodded, smiling slightly at him. "Good. I'm going to hold you to that. Now, we should actually get some rest. When I stopped by Aedan's room with Morrigan, he told me he wants to go looking around Denerim tomorrow."

"All right," he agreed. "We'll rest, for now." He did feel a little bit more exhausted than he'd expected, but if he had his way, they would do this all over again at least once more before tomorrow. She merely smirked at him in answer, and as they settled down to sleep, he thought to himself that he would have to properly ask her to marry him one of these days. He'd have to get a ring, first. He'd have a talk with Aedan when he got the chance, he decided, and see if he could help him find a good one for her.

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The next day found Ayla, Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, Wynne and Oghren making their way through the streets and back alleys of Denerim. Aedan had asked them to help a Sergeant Kylon, who was an officer of Denerim's city guard, with a few favors, in hopes that it would boost the popularity of the Wardens amongst the common people. In the meantime, Aedan himself had gone to the Gnawed Noble tavern along with Morrigan, Sten, and Striker to see if he could find both Oswyn's father and the sister of the Templar they had found in Howe's dungeon, to speak to them about the Landsmeet. He was also hoping to gain the support of any other noble that he possibly could while they were there. They planned to rendezvous later in the day, and if possible, investigate the alienage before nightfall. If they couldn't make it today, they would head to the alienage tomorrow, as they only had a few days left before the Landsmeet.

Sergeant Kylon had asked them to visit a local brothel called the Pearl, where a group of mercenaries called the White Falcons were causing problems and refusing to leave. It was while they were on their way there, having to cut through a back alley as one of the main streets was currently closed for repairs, that Ayla got the sudden feeling that they were being watched. She froze, grabbing Alistair's arm; the two of them were in the lead. He halted, looking down at her. "What is it?"

"Something's not right," she whispered to him, frowning as she looked around. She couldn't actually see anybody, but she knew they were there; she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. "Somebody's watching us, maybe . . . waiting to ambush us?"

"Well, that sodding figures," Oghren grumbled from behind them. "We're on our way to have some fun for once, and somebody wants to kill us."

"This is not about having fun," Wynne admonished him in a low voice. "We are not visiting this brothel for your entertainment."

"So we're going to get rid of some mercenaries," Oghren shrugged. "Doesn't mean we can't stick around after." When no one answered him right away, he went on, "Or just me. That's fine too."

"Oh, hush," Leliana snapped at him. "What are we going to do?" she asked in a low voice.

"Well, there's no way to go around," Alistair murmured, studying the stone stairs off to the right that led up to the next street. The rest of the dusty alley was blocked off by the stone walls of the buildings on either side, which cast deep shadows through the otherwise sun-filled street. "I suppose we have no choice but to go ahead. I'll stay out front."

They made their way towards the stairs, all trying to be as casual as possible, though no one's hand was far from their weapons. They had just reached the bottom of the stairs when someone finally appeared at the top, a dark-haired man with stubble on his face dressed in studded leathers, two swords strapped to his back as he smiled down at them. "And so here are the mighty Grey Wardens at long last. Well, one of you, anyway," he added, gesturing at Alistair out in front. "The Crows send their greetings, once again."

Ayla sucked in her breath in surprise. The Crows had actually tracked them down again? She looked over at Zevran, who had come up next to her where she stood slightly behind Alistair. His face was carefully blank and cold as he stared up at the man. "So they sent you, Taliesin? Or did you volunteer for the job?"

Taliesin shrugged, replying easily, "I volunteered, of course. When I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

"Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh," Zevran returned, bowing mockingly at the man.

"You can return with me, Zevran," Taliesin said, a cajoling note in his voice as he beckoned to Zevran. "I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

"Of course, he'd have to kill us first," Alistair replied wryly. He had not moved from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, slightly ahead of the rest of them, and though he looked to be perfectly at ease, Ayla could tell by the tenseness of his shoulders that he was ready to attack at any moment.

"He won't," Ayla said with certainty. This was her chance to finally free her friend from the Crows, and she was going to take it. "Zevran doesn't need you or the Crows any longer, and he is not going with you," she snapped at Taliesin, glaring fiercely up at him.

"Oh?" Taliesin raised an eyebrow in reply, seemingly unconcerned at her threatening tone of voice. "Does Zevran need to live?"

"I suspect I will manage just fine, Taliesin," Zevran said coldly. He stepped forward just slightly, enough to angle himself in front of Ayla, and she sighed inwardly as Alistair shifted over just a bit, too, the two of them forming a wall in front of her. Oghren had come up to her right where Zevran had been, while Wynne and Leliana remained at the back.

Taliesin smirked widely at Zevran's movement, and shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Ah, Zevran. Are you making the same mistake all over again?"

"No, I am not. I will never make that mistake again." Ayla knew he didn't mean it the way Taliesin obviously thought he did, as the other Crow began to smile slightly before Zevran shook his head, sighing. "I am sorry, my old friend. But the answer is no. I'm not coming back . . . and you should have stayed in Antiva."

So saying, Zevran drew his swords, and the rest of their party followed suit with their weapons as several assassins suddenly appeared from every direction, coming out of the shadows of the building, or from behind the barrels stacked along the walls, or hurrying down the stairs with Taliesin. Ayla quickly faced off against a man going for Alistair's back, while he blocked a blow from the front. Zevran and Taliesin were fighting on the stairs; Oghren was keeping two assassins away from Wynne with swings of his greataxe, while Leliana fired arrows rapidly at anyone in range.

Ayla quickly rolled away from the swing of the greatsword her opponent was wielding, coming back up fast and swinging at his back. He dodged out of her way, only to be struck in the shoulder by one of Leliana's arrows. His temporary stumble and distraction was all Ayla needed; she plunged one sword home in his stomach, through his leathers, before slashing his throat with the other.

She quickly turned to assess the battle, and saw that Alistair had already killed the first Crow facing him; as she spotted him, he was in the process of bashing another with his shield, sending the man flying backwards off his feet. Wynne finished him off with an ice spell before he had a chance to get back up; Oghren was just in the process of dealing a finishing blow to his second assassin as Leliana's arrows continued to fly around them.

It looked like the others had their own fights well in hand; Ayla turned her attention to Zevran and Taliesin, who were now fighting at the bottom of the stairs, trading blows so rapidly she almost couldn't follow them. She was in time to notice another Crow going for Zevran's back, and quickly flung a dagger at him, striking the man in the side. It halted him long enough for her to race forward and block the blow he was aiming towards Zevran.

This man was more skilled than the last; it took her a few minutes of fighting before she finally found an opening, striking him in the face with the pommel of one sword while cutting into the back of his thigh with the other. He went down hard, and she dealt the finishing blow mercilessly, just in time to hear Zevran grunt right behind her. She whirled around to see that he had just taken a blow obviously meant for her; Taliesin's longsword was stuck in his side. "Zev!" she cried.

"You have gone soft, Zevran," Taliesin taunted, yanking his sword back out, causing Zevran to stumble. "Deliberately taking a blow you could have avoided just so she wouldn't get hurt? And you call yourself a Crow!"

Before Ayla could go around Zevran to face Taliesin, an arrow struck him in the back, and the next swing of his sword went wide of Zevran, who was quick to take advantage of the opportunity, driving both of his swords home in Taliesin's chest. The other Crow gaped at him in shock as Zevran replied, "No, Taliesin, I do not call myself a Crow. Not anymore," before pulling his own swords out.

Taliesin fell backwards to the ground, hard, blood pooling around him, while Zevran went down on one knee, clutching at his side. Ayla scrambled over to him after briefly making sure that Taliesin was never getting back up. "Zev, what did you do that for?" she demanded, crouching next to him as she called for Wynne.

Wynne came over immediately; a quick look around showed Ayla that all the Crows were dead, and the rest of the party looked relatively uninjured, as Zevran chuckled breathlessly. "Ah, my dear, why do you think? I was not about to allow you to get injured fighting my battle. Taliesin was here for me, after all."

"And me," Alistair pointed out as he joined them, while Wynne crouched next to Zevran as well, casting a healing spell. "At least, I assume they're still after me and Aedan."

"They might have been," Zevran answered, wincing slightly as Wynne's magic passed through him, "but they are not likely to try again, now that two attempts have failed. Not unless they receive another contract for you."

"Well, that's comforting," Alistair said dryly.

"You will just have to try not to make more enemies besides Loghain, that is all," Leliana told him, smiling, as she rejoined them after having checked the bodies for anything they could use.

"How bad is it, Wynne?" Ayla asked the elderly mage, noticing that the glow of the healing magic had not yet ceased.

"It is fairly deep," the mage answered, slightly breathless, "but not beyond my abilities to heal. Give me another moment, and he should be fine to continue on with us to the Pearl."

"Bah, he'd better be," Oghren snorted as he walked towards them, cleaning off his axe. "I ain't missing my chance to go to a brothel just 'cause this swishy nug-licker got himself hurt."

"Your concern for me is touching, my fine dwarven friend." Zevran merely grinned at Oghren when he spluttered in denial, and then looked over at Taliesin's body where it still lay on the ground. "So, Taliesin is dead, then, and I am free of the Crows. They will assume that I am dead along with Taliesin. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."

He sounded almost sad about it, so that Ayla couldn't help but ask, "Well, that's a good thing, right? That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Zevran smiled at her. "It is a very good thing, my dear. It is, in fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me. I have all of you to thank." He nodded at each of them in turn.

Alistair looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck, as he nodded back at Zevran, before saying, "So what does this mean, then? You being free of the Crows?"

Zevran shrugged in reply, just as Wynne finished her spell and pronounced him healed as she stood up. Everyone else got to their feet as well as Zevran said, "I do not know. It seems I have options now, whereas once I had none. I have enjoyed our company, but . . ." he glanced briefly at Ayla, and she wondered what he was thinking as he went on, "I am wondering if it is not time for me to leave."

"Zevran, no!" Ayla exclaimed. The last thing she wanted was to lose any of her friends right now, especially not when they were getting so close to the end, and so much was at stake. "You can't leave us, not now! We still need help, don't we?" She looked imploringly at Alistair.

He nodded, looking the elf in the eye, as the others added their agreement as well, though Oghren's was more a reluctant mumble than anything. "She's right; we could use your help. I would ask – and I know that Aedan would say the same – that you stay on as a friend. If you're willing, that is." Ayla wondered at the way Alistair looked briefly to her, then back at Zevran, raising his brows significantly at the elf.

She didn't understand the meaning of the look, but Zevran obviously did, looking slightly surprised before he nodded in reply. "Well, who could resist such a request? Very well, I will not abandon you. Let us return to the task at hand, then. There is still much to be done, yes?"

"Right," Alistair agreed, turning towards the stairs. "We have to get going to the Pearl. We still have to meet up with Aedan later."

As they all trooped up the stairs following Alistair, Ayla fell back next to Zevran at the rear of the party, saying softly, "I'm sorry, Zev."

He frowned, looking over at her. "What for, my dear?"

"Well, you got hurt defending me, for one thing," she began, holding up her hand to forestall his protest as she went on, "but – I shouldn't have demanded that you stay like that, if you really wanted to leave. It was selfish of me. I just . . . didn't want to lose my friend just yet. I'm sorry."

He smiled at her with genuine warmth. "Do not be. I did not truly wish to leave, it is just . . . you had nearly gotten injured because of me and my attempt to get away from the Crows. The last thing I had wanted was to put you in danger, and so I thought it might be best if I left. But if you and the others do not wish me to leave just yet, then of course I will stay."

"You didn't put me in any danger, Zev," she said, shaking her head at him. "Don't be ridiculous. They were still coming after Alistair and Aedan, anyway. And even if they weren't – I did promise to help you break free of the Crows, and I meant it. So _I_ put myself in danger, and you protected me and got yourself hurt when you didn't have to. So no, I don't want you to leave. I'd like you to stick with us until the end. There might be tough times ahead, fighting the Blight," she said softly, watching the back of Alistair's head as he led them. "I might really need a friend."

"Then I will be there," Zevran promised her, quietly. "And as I told you before, my dear, I will get both you and your Warden through this safely, if I can."

"No, that's not what I meant, you don't have to –" she protested, but he cut her off before she'd finished.

"But I will." He met her gaze firmly as he went on, "Because we are friends, yes? And I am free to do as I wish, now that I am free of the Crows."

"That's right, you are," she agreed, realizing it was useless to argue with him when he looked that determined. It warmed her heart to hear his promise, to know that she would have his help in keeping Alistair safe. It gave her even more hope for the future, that it might work out the way she needed it to.

"Well, now that is settled, shall we go see what the Pearl has to offer?" He gave her a wicked grin as they went.

"We can go fight some mercenaries there, if that's what you mean," she retorted, though she couldn't help smiling.

"Ah, well, I suppose you have no need of their services," he said, winking at her. "Perhaps I will follow the dwarf's example, and 'stick around' to see what I might find there."

"If you want," she replied, amused, and they continued on their way through the streets towards the Pearl, as she wondered who or what they might find when they got there.


	50. Pirates and Slavers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While at the Pearl helping Sergeant Kylon, Ayla and Alistair meet an old friend of Zevran's. The next day, the party goes to the alienage and discovers the reason behind the unrest there.

Chapter 49: Pirates and Slavers

She shouldn't have been surprised, really, Ayla thought as she dodged backwards, avoiding the blow directed her way by the White Falcon mercenary. After all, when had one of their missions ever gone simply? They had been specifically asked not to kill the men by Sergeant Kylon, but only to beat them down if necessary to get them to leave. Asking them and then threatening them had not worked as hoped; so they were now fighting the ten men that had been in the Pearl, and all without trying to kill the oafs.

Which was more difficult than it sounded, particularly for someone like her, whose fighting style relied more on speed than strength, and lethality more than brute force. Alistair had taken two of them down shortly after the fight began by cracking their heads together, and had his shield to knock someone out with, besides. Wynne had put another two to sleep with a spell, and Oghren had tripped one up with his axe and then head-butted him to knock him out. She hadn't seen what Zevran or Leliana had done, but she was still working on her first mercenary. If she didn't have to worry about not killing him, she would have been finished with this one already.

Seeing an opportunity as she skipped backwards across the brothel floor, she shoved a chair in the path of the oncoming mercenary. He tried to dodge around it, but as he'd been charging straight at her, he couldn't move fast enough, and tripped over the chair, landing hard on the floor in front of her. She kicked him in the face before he could get up, and then cracked a pommel over his head just for good measure, satisfied when he passed out shortly thereafter.

Before she could regain her bearings to see what was happening elsewhere, someone slammed into her back, causing her to stumble. She rolled out of the way, dropped a sword, and came up flinging a dagger on instinct, which landed in the shoulder of the man who had bumped into her, making him cry out and turn to look at her, as he had apparently backed into her. She cursed silently; she hadn't meant to throw a dagger, but then she frowned in confusion. The man wasn't bearing the crest the other mercenaries had been.

Looking past him, she realized that she'd managed to stumble into an entirely different fight; a dusky-skinned woman in a revealing white outfit was fighting off another two men, wielding a pair of daggers with excellent skill, directly behind the one who'd just ran into her. After glancing at the fight behind him, the man cursed, then turned and ran toward her, apparently deciding she was now the preferred target.

She shrugged and grabbed the chair she'd just used on the mercenary, flinging it into this man's path, as well. Though he succeeded in spinning out of the way of the chair, doing so distracted him enough that she was able to do a sweeping kick to pull his legs out from under him before cracking him in the head with both her pommels, knocking him unconscious also.

As soon as he was out, she took a moment to look around her. Wynne was casting a defensive spell on Leliana and Zevran, while they harried one mercenary between the two of them; Alistair was fighting another, whom he bashed in the face with his shield, and Oghren had just succeeded in tripping up a third mercenary. None of the other White Falcons were currently conscious. Deciding the others had it well in hand, Ayla turned to see how the fight she'd interrupted was going, just in time to see that the other woman had finished off the remaining two men by herself.

"I thank you for the help, sweet thing," the woman said, smiling as she sheathed her daggers and came up to Ayla, adjusting the blue handkerchief that contained her dark hair, "though I could have taken care of all three of them myself."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Ayla replied as she sheathed her swords and pulled her dagger out of the man's shoulder, tucking it away. "It was more of an accident, really. I kind of stumbled into your fight while taking care of my own."

The woman glanced down at the unconscious Falcon. "I can see that. Those mercenaries _were_ getting annoying; just as well you took care of them before my men and I had to." She nodded at a group of men that appeared to be sailors sitting at a table nearby, who looked more amused than concerned that their leader had just been in a fight.

Before Ayla could reply, she heard Zevran calling out as he came up behind her, "Ayla, my dear, it seems everything – " he halted abruptly as he stopped next to her.

"And look who we have here," the dark-skinned woman said, recognition clear on her face as she planted her hands on her hips, staring at Zevran. "Come to apologize for leaving me bereft of my lord husband and vanishing without a trace?"

Ayla turned in surprise to look at Zevran, who was grinning and shrugging in response. "You know it was just business, Isabela. Business that turned out well for you, I see. You inherited the ship, I take it."

The woman, Isabela, glared at him for a second longer before she broke into an answering grin. "I suppose I never did like the greasy bastard. And the Siren treats me far better than she ever did him."

Zevran had killed this woman's husband and she wasn't even upset about it? Ayla wondered, glancing back and forth between the two. It obviously hadn't been a happy marriage, then, and judging by the looks they were giving one another, that hadn't been the only aspect of their relationship. "I take it you two know each other, then?" she prompted mildly.

"Indeed. This is Isabela, queen of the eastern seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn. And Isabela, my dear, may I introduce my deadly sex goddess, Ayla," Zevran concluded, sweeping a dramatic bow as he gestured at Ayla.

"Zev," Ayla groaned, burying her face in her hands. No matter how many times she'd asked him to stop calling her that, he seemed to take a particular delight in using it whenever he could. "Sorry," she added, looking up at Isabela, who seemed highly amused. "I've told him to stop calling me that."

"Well, I'm certain it's a well-earned name. I've seen the deadly part for myself; I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know you better and finding out if the rest of it is true." Isabela winked at her, the flirtatious heat in her eyes unmistakable as she gave Ayla a slow once-over.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I have to decline," Ayla replied politely, elbowing Zevran who was chuckling quietly next to her.

"My goddess has her Grey Warden," Zevran explained to Isabela, gesturing behind them to where the others still were. "He takes _very_ good care of her."

"Zev!" Ayla exclaimed, torn between amusement and embarrassment. She couldn't help looking back, however, to see just where Alistair was, and was in time to catch his gaze as he turned away from the Pearl's owner, whom he'd clearly been talking to after the battle. When he saw her looking, he smiled, starting towards her and Zevran, the others following him.

"Oh, I'll just bet he does," Isabela murmured. Ayla glanced back at her, seeing that Isabela had followed her gaze to Alistair, and was watching him with a hungry expression. "I don't suppose you'd consider sharing him?"

"No," Ayla said coldly, surprising even herself with the hard edge of temper in her tone. She knew it had only been a casual question, not meant to offend, but she couldn't help the possessiveness that flared up in her at the look on Isabela's face when she saw Alistair. "He's mine, and I don't share."

Isabela's eyes widened briefly at the challenge in her gaze. "Of course not, sweet thing, I didn't realize," she answered easily, turning to Zevran, who was grinning broadly at the exchange. "Well, Zev, since no one else wants to have any fun, what about you? For old times' sake?"

"Isabela, my dear, I believe I may have to take you up on that offer." Zevran turned as Alistair came up to them. "As long as you're willing to give me a little time off, my Warden friend."

"Sure," Alistair replied, looking slightly puzzled as he glanced between the three of them, while Ayla willed herself to relax, realizing that she may have overreacted slightly. "By the time we get back to the market place to meet Aedan, I doubt there will be enough time left for us to go to the alienage today. And I suspect I won't be able to get Oghren to leave here anytime soon, either. Feel free to do as you like, Zevran."

Ayla grinned, the last of her sudden temper melting away as she saw that Oghren had gotten distracted partway across the room and was now talking to one of the brothel workers, a goofy look planted on his face as he stared up at her. No, the dwarf wouldn't be leaving here anytime soon.

"Well, come on then, Zev. I'm sure you'll find my ship as comfortable as you remember it," Isabela drawled, beckoning the elf after her as she turned to leave. She stopped briefly in front of Alistair. "Ayla tells me you're hers, and I can't borrow you. Which is a shame, because I've heard such _interesting_ things about Wardens, but I don't trespass."

Ayla looked up at Alistair, stifling a grin as he flushed bright red at Isabela's innuendo, even as he nodded in response to her words. "I am hers," he agreed, smiling down fondly at Ayla as he slipped an arm around her waist, dropping a kiss on her head as she leaned against his side. "So, no, I'm afraid I can't be, um, _borrowed_."

Ayla thought she caught a brief flash of sadness in Isabela's eyes as she studied the two of them, before the pirate grinned suddenly. "Didn't I hear that there were two of you Wardens running around Denerim? Maybe I can borrow the other one."

"Ah, that would not be wise, Isabela, my dear," Zevran said as he slipped past them, heading towards the door. "I am afraid both Wardens are already claimed, as it were. And Morrigan is even more frightening than my goddess, here. I, however, am free to join you. Shall we go?"

Isabela shrugged. "Well, it was worth a shot. It's not every day I meet a Warden. Good luck with the darkspawn and everything. I think I'll be leaving Ferelden in the next day or so, just in case. It was a pleasure to meet you," she finished, before heading after Zevran as they both left the Pearl.

"We, uh, should get back to the marketplace," Alistair said, letting go of Ayla as he turned to look back at Wynne and Leliana, who'd been watching the exchange with incredulous looks on their faces. "Aedan and the others are probably there waiting for us. The owner has already sent someone to get the guardsmen and have them take the mercenaries away, so we should be free to leave now."

"Are you sure it is wise to leave Oghren here?" Wynne asked doubtfully as they all began heading towards the door.

Alistair shrugged. "I'm sure he'll be fine, and I doubt Aedan will want to go to the alienage now that it's getting so late. He'll find his way back sometime tonight, I expect."

"It's wiser than trying to get him to leave," Ayla added. "He'd be complaining the whole way back."

"I suppose you have a point," Wynne conceded grudgingly as they left the building and began to make their way back through the alleyways.

"I take it Zevran knew that woman," Leliana said, looking over at Ayla as they walked. "In fact, she seemed to be rather a lot like him."

"Oh, she definitely is," Ayla agreed wryly. "Before she asked me if she could borrow Alistair, she asked if _I_ wanted to get to know her better."

"What?!" Alistair exclaimed, looking down at her in shock, his eyes wide. "She did? Really?"

Ayla couldn't help but be amused at his reaction; she could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about it. "I notice that you seem more intrigued by the idea than jealous."

She watched his face turn bright red again as he began fumbling for words, shaking his head in denial. "No, of course not, I – I was just thinking about how it would . . . uh, work, I – I mean . . ."

"Honestly, Alistair, I'm ashamed of you," Wynne said sternly, though Ayla could see by the sparkle in her eyes that the older woman was merely teasing.

"No, I – I didn't . . ."

"Perhaps you should have taken her up on her offer, then," Leliana added, straight-faced. "It seems Alistair would not have minded."

"It looks that way," Ayla agreed, stifling a laugh as Alistair spluttered some more. "I turned her down because I didn't think he'd want to share, either, but it seems I was wrong. I bet I could catch up to her." She started to pick up speed as though to catch up to Isabela and Zevran, but Alistair grabbed her arm before she'd taken more than a few steps, pulling her back so she stayed next to him.

"Oh, no you don't," he said firmly, though his face was still a flaming red up to the tips of his ears. "I'm _not_ sharing you, not even if it's a woman asking."

"Oh, that's a shame," Leliana sighed dramatically from Alistair's other side. "I was going to ask if I could come with you."

"You what?" Alistair whipped around to stare at her incredulously, and Ayla could no longer contain herself; she burst out laughing, as did the other two women. "Ohhhh, I get it. Let's all make fun of Alistair. Well, I'm on to all of you now."

"I'm certain you are," Wynne replied gravely.

"Especially you," Alistair said, pointing sternly at the mage, who merely smiled at him. "That frail old lady act isn't fooling me anymore."

The three of them took pity on Alistair after that, and refrained from teasing him anymore on the way back. Once Leliana and Wynne had fallen behind a little more and were out of earshot, Alistair leaned down to whisper to Ayla, "I'm going to make you pay for that later, you know."

She gave him a heated look, loving the way his eyes flared in response. "I sincerely hope so."

They picked up the pace after that, and it didn't take them much longer to get back to the marketplace and meet up with Aedan and the others. As Alistair had guessed, Aedan elected to wait until the next morning to visit the alienage, and they all returned to the Arl's estate to relax for the remainder of the night.

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Early the next morning, Ayla followed the others to the alienage, curious to finally see what sort of condition the place was in after all she'd heard about the treatment of elves in Thedas. Aedan had elected to bring her, Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran and Leliana along. Though Oghren had also returned late last night, he was far too hung-over to be going anywhere, so he had been left behind with Wynne to look after him. Aedan had also decided to leave Sten and Striker behind, as he didn't want the group to be so large as to intimidate the elves.

The alienage was in its own separate section of the city, walled off from everywhere else; the entrance was a gate in the corner of the marketplace that had been barred last time they were here. This time, however, it was open, and the single guard waved them through. They had to cross a bridge made of stone to reach the actual alienage, and pass through another gate, this one made of wood. The alienage itself was a place of tiny, run-down wooden buildings built up against the stone walls that surrounded them, a crowded, noisy, smelly place full of dirt roads and puddles, with an immense tree in the center of it all, looming above the buildings. Ayla could hear shouting in the distance as they entered.

She was frankly appalled by the state of the place; it smelled horrendous, and didn't look much better. She'd never seen so many people crowded into such a small space before. It was so different from the beautiful valley where the elves lived in Fallor that she could barely stand to look at it, and wondered why anyone would even agree to live here. As if echoing her thoughts, Morrigan muttered," And these elves allow themselves to be herded together in this filth, why, exactly?"

Zevran glanced back at her, frowning. "Perhaps because they do not wish to die?" He tapped a sign plastered on one of the wooden walls; Ayla saw that it was a notice not to bear arms – that any elves who had swords would die upon them. What could the elves have possibly done to deserve such treatment?

"There are some things worse than death," Leliana remarked quietly from the back of the group.

"As it happens, I agree," Zevran replied soberly, nodding at the bard, "but not everyone thinks that way."

Before anyone could reply to him, they rounded a corner and came upon the source of the noise that Ayla had been hearing; a large crowd of elves, all of them dressed in rough brown garments, appeared to be shouting at one another outside one of the larger wooden buildings across from the tree in the center of the alienage. Two human mages stood outside of the door leading into the building, keeping a careful eye on the teeming crowd of elves.

"I've got children at home! I can't wait out here for another day!" An elderly, white-haired elven woman shouted as Aedan halted their party a few feet away.

"So go home!" A young, red-haired elven woman shot back at her, frustrated fury lining her face. "The best thing you can do for your children is not trust these charlatans!"

"Everyone remain calm," one of the mages called out to the crowd. The robes he wore were different than most of the ones that Ayla had seen so far; they were bright and colourful, a patchwork of fur, cloth and even bone in some places. "We will help as many as we can today, so long as we can do this in an orderly fashion," the man continued.

The red-haired elf whirled on him. "Oh, you're 'helping' us, are you, shem?" she snarled. "Like Valendrian and my uncle Cyrion, you helped them, didn't you? Helped them never to be seen again!"

The mage gave a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. "We've explained this to you before, girl. More whining will not persuade us to let you into the quarantine to carry plague back out to the Alienage."

"Quit trying to get us all killed, Shianni!" another elf shouted in the crowd. "Some of us have still got things to live for."

"If this spell of theirs works, why are half the people they quarantine perfectly healthy?" Shianni demanded in turn, but no one in the crowd answered; they all turned away from her as though determined to ignore her.

"Well, she looks like the best person to get information from," Aedan muttered, before walking up to the elven woman to address her. "What's going on? Is there a plague here?"

Shianni scowled at him. "What's wrong, shem, did you get bored and decide to come watch the elves die of plague?" Before Aedan had a chance to reply, she took a closer look at him, frowning, and then looked past him at Ayla and the others. "Wait . . . Soris told me about you. You're the ones who freed him from the dungeons."

Aedan nodded. "Yes, that was us. He didn't deserve to be down there. Would you mind telling us what's going on here?"

"These foreigners say they're here to help with our outbreak of plague," Shianni answered. "Funny thing, though, all the people they 'help' disappear."

"That's not true, and you know it, Shianni!" the elderly elf from earlier interrupted, obviously overhearing the conversation. "Both my sisters got the Tevinter spell cast on them, and they're fine."

Shianni whirled on the woman, hands planted on her hips. "Where's your niece, then? And my Uncle Cyrion? And Valendrian?"

"Just slow down and explain to us exactly what's going on," Aedan prompted her quietly, turning her attention back to him.

"These foreigners have token dozens of elves into that house over the last few weeks, and none of them have been seen again," Shianni explained, pointing to the wooden house behind her where the mages stood guard along with a few other men in plate armor. "One of them was our hahren, Valendrian. And I don't know what we're going to do if we don't get him back."

"Do the city guards know about this?" Alistair asked her, frowning as he came up next to Aedan.

"They have to know about it. The hahren complained, and so did I. They just don't care, or . . . something worse," Shianni finished quietly, and Ayla couldn't help but notice that no one looked surprised at the fact that the guards weren't doing anything. Here was another place where the balance of this world was distorted.

"Then it might be a good idea for us to take a look inside," Aedan replied quietly, glancing at the mages and the door beyond them.

"They won't just let you in," Shianni protested.

Aedan shrugged. "I wasn't planning on asking." He studied the door for a moment, considering, before looking at Shianni again. "Is there any other way into that house?"

She nodded, pointing to a gap between the house and the one next to it. "There's a side entrance in the alley. It's got only one guard."

"Let's check it out," Aedan said to the rest of them, gesturing for everyone to follow him into the alley. True to Shianni's word, there was a door around the side of the house, with only one elf in silver plate mail standing guard.

"'Tis odd that mages of the Imperium would be here using their magic on alienage elves," Morrigan murmured as Aedan approached the guard to talk their way in.

"What do you mean, mages of the Imperium?" Ayla asked. "Those aren't Circle mages from Ferelden, then?"

Morrigan shook her head. "They are not. They hail from the Tevinter Imperium across the sea, a country where mages are free to rule themselves. 'Tis most unusual for them to take an interest in Ferelden, particularly a place like this."

"There is something not right here, that's for sure," Ayla agreed. All her instincts screamed that those mages were up to no good. At that moment, she heard a surprised grunt, and looked up to see that Leliana had managed to sneak up on the guard while Aedan talked to him, knocking him out with a blow to the back of the head. Aedan caught the elf before he hit the ground and dragged him off to the side.

It took only a moment for Aedan to find the key the elven guard had on his person, and after he had unlocked the door, they entered the house. Ayla was one of the last to enter, and by the time she'd gotten in the door, Aedan and the others in front had already been attacked by three guards inside. The guards were down before she'd even had a chance to help, however.

Aedan wasted no time in directing everyone to search the building; the area where they'd entered was one large, open room, with little decoration beyond a few scattered rugs on the floor and one desk in the corner. Zevran was the one to find a note on the desk. "Bring eight males and six females for the next shipment," he read aloud, scowling as he got to the end of the note.

"That . . . isn't what I think it is, is it?" Ayla looked uncertainly at Alistair, who frowned, looking disturbed.

"It . . . sounds like an order of people . . . for slaves," he said quietly, looking as though he'd rather give her any answer but that one.

"Well, the Imperium is well known for keeping slaves," Aedan mused, though he looked disturbed as well. "That could explain what those mages are doing here."

"There's another door over here," Leliana called from the corner opposite the desk. "There are elves in this room!"

Ayla followed the others as they hurried over to the door Leliana had just opened. The room beyond was a tiny one, a fraction of the size of the one they'd just been in, and there was nothing in it but two cages packed with elves. Ayla halted in the door, horrified. Were they really keeping people in cages to sell as slaves? How could anyone _do_ such a thing?

"Help us!" a male elf cried as they entered. "Please, we're not sick. Let us out of here!"

Aedan turned to look at Morrigan, who held up a hand glowing with magic, apparently scanning the people in the cages. "They appear to be telling the truth. As far as I can tell, they are quite healthy."

Aedan nodded. "Then let's get them out of there. Zev? Leliana?"

The two rogues quickly went to work on the locks on the cage doors, and had them open in no time, releasing at least a dozen elves from the confines of the cages. Most of them fled out of the room immediately, but Aedan stopped the one who'd spoken first, a male elf with long, dark hair and a black eye. "Do you know what happens to the people they take?" he demanded.

The male elf shook his head, looking frightened. "I don't know, and I don't want to find out. We're leaving. Maker keep you." Without waiting for an answer, he followed the other elves out the door.

"We'd best be prepared to be attacked again." Aedan led them back out of the room, towards the other door out of the building that would lead them directly into the crowd. "They'll be bound to notice those elves leaving. We'd better get out there quickly."

Aedan led them out, and sure enough, as soon as they emerged, the two mages attacked, along with the armed guards Ayla had spotted earlier. Alistair kept one of the mages busy, while Morrigan took on the other; Ayla took advantage of the distraction of the mages to take them down from behind while the other three confronted the guards head-on. Though there were one or two close calls with the spells of the Tevinter mages, the combination proved effective enough to get them through the fight with minimal damage.

Though most of the elves had fled the scene as soon as the fighting began, Shianni ran up to them as soon as all of the guards were defeated. "What happened?" she demanded. "Some of the elves ran out . . . but I didn't recognize any of them! Where are all the others?"

"They were the only ones inside," Aedan replied, frowning. "We didn't find anyone else in there."

Shianni threw her arms wide, looking alarmed. "How is that possible? They've taken dozens of us into quarantine. Where else could they be? It makes no sense!"

"We found this note . . ." Aedan said reluctantly, handing her the slip of paper Zevran had found on the desk.

"Let me see that," Shianni grabbed the paper from him, reading through it quickly before glancing back up, alarmed. "What does this even mean? They can't be shipping people, can they? Shipping them where?"

Aedan shrugged uncomfortably as their party all exchanged glances. No one really wanted to be the one to bring up the possibility of slavery. "I'm not sure the _where_ matters so much as the _why_. Do you know how they could have been getting the other elves out of there without anyone noticing?"

Shianni paused, clearly thinking it over as she studied the building they'd just exited. "They could be moving through the back alleys. There are all sorts of buildings back there, they could be using one as some sort of . . . warehouse? Staging area?" When Aedan nodded encouragement, she continued, "There are apartments off the alleys. I would go to the back of the hospice and maybe follow the alley from there. If you find any more information, please let me know. I refuse to accept that they're all simply . . . gone."

"We'll do our best to find out as much as we can," Aedan promised before heading for the back alley again, gesturing for the others to follow. As they entered the alley, he glanced over at Ayla, asking in a low voice, "Any chance you can track them?"

She shook her head. "It's too small of a space with too many people wandering it daily. I'd need a specific scent to track, and that's _if_ I could smell it over everything else in this alienage, which I doubt. We'll just have to look the regular way."

"Of course," Aedan sighed. "It couldn't be easy, oh no."

However, it did turn out to easier than they'd expected; there weren't a lot of doors that accessed the back alley, and it took only a few minutes of the six of them searching to find the door that led into a shabby set of apartments with white plaster walls, cracked stone floors, and narrow hallways that led to small, cramped rooms. A dark-haired male elf, one of the few people they found in there, eventually confessed to Aedan that he'd seen several elves being brought through the landlord's old office, including the elder of the alienage, Valendrian, that Shianni had been looking for.

After discovering that information, they made their way through the apartments, coming across a group of armed guards in one of the larger rooms that attacked them on sight. The guards were hardly a match for them, however, and after the fight they discovered a key on one of the bodies. Eventually, after more searching, they found the locked door the key belonged to, and with Aedan in the lead again, made their way through.

The door led them back outside, and no sooner had they exited than a man in rogue's leathers confronted them, saying, "What's this, another shipment already? We weren't – " He halted as soon as he got a better look at Aedan and the rest of their party. "Wait, you're not Tevinters. Who are you supposed to be?"

"We're looking for the missing elves," Aedan replied coolly, reaching for his sword before he'd even finished the sentence.

"Quick, get them! Hurry!" the man shouted, gesturing to another group of guards clustered around the small open area that was ringed by more buildings.

This group was no more trouble than the last, especially as they had been taken by surprise, and they were soon moving on through the only other door in the area. In the next building, they were met by an elven woman with black hair and an immense bow strapped to her back. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. She was flanked on either side by another four guards, Ayla noted, and this group looked to be more skilled than the others. "We were told that there would be no interference from the authorities!"

Aedan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You were? Isn't _that_ interesting?" He exchanged a grim look with Alistair, and Ayla suspected they'd just found the evidence that they were looking for; Loghain had to be behind what was going on in this place. "So what exactly is going on, here?"

"You simply fought your way in here to ask questions, did you?" the woman asked scornfully. When Aedan merely shrugged in reply, she went on, "You will regret this, you know. Believe it or not, we have been given dispensation to do our business here. You Fereldans talk a great deal about how very wrong slavery is, but isn't it funny how quickly the smell of gold overcomes such ideals?"

"So you _are_ slavers." It was a statement of fact, not a question, and Ayla could hear the disappointment ringing through Aedan's voice when he said it. She couldn't blame him; she was disgusted by the thought of selling people into slavery, herself. Such a thing was unheard of in Fallor; she'd heard rumors it was still practiced across the sea in Aberhard, though she didn't know how true that was. She could see that the rest of the party was equally disgusted, as well, particularly Zevran, who looked darkly furious.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to acquire new blood?" the woman was saying, seemingly uncaring of their reactions. "These slaves will fetch an excellent price in the Imperium, and we are paying handsomely for this opportunity. But enough. I am here to halt your slaughter, nothing more."

Ayla could see the muscles working in Aedan's jaw as he glared at the woman, and she was expecting him to give the order to attack at any moment, but he surprised her by snapping, "Then step aside, or we'll go through you. We intend to rescue the elves, no matter what."

The elf woman frowned. "I am no fool. I can see that you are capable." She shrugged, stating, "So be it. I will let Caladrius deal with you while I fetch the Regent's men. I suggest you leave while you still can."

Aedan stepped aside, allowing the elf and her guards to pass, and though Ayla was incredulous, she did the same, as did the others. As soon as the door was closed, however, Ayla demanded, "You're just letting them go?"

"We're here for information, not to kill everyone," Aedan replied, sounding weary. "Besides, she looked capable enough herself; if she was willing to let us through to the elves rather than fight, I'd rather not take the chance that anyone could get hurt. Especially as I suspect there will be at least one more fight to free the remaining elves."

"Oh, all right," Ayla sighed. "I suppose that makes sense." She still didn't like it; slavers were worse than bandits, in her opinion, but she could see Aedan's point. Zevran didn't look happy either, but he didn't say anything.

"At any rate, it looks like Loghain _is_ the one responsible for the problems in the alienage," Alistair said, frowning. "I'd like to say I can't believe he's letting slavers take the elves in exchange for gold, but at this point, I'd believe anything of him. And if we can find some sort of proof . . ."

"Then we should have everything we need for the Landsmeet, now that we've got those other nobles on our side," Aedan finished, although he looked more tired than pleased. "Let's get this finished with."

They made their way through the rooms and hallways of the warehouse they'd entered, fighting their way through various Tevinter soldiers as they picked their way past various barrels, crates, and traps that Zevran and Leliana disarmed. Finally, they entered the last room through two separate doors, coming out on a balcony of sorts that had two sets of stairs leading down into the rest of the room. It was larger than any of the rooms they'd been in previously, the floors set with stone, and two cages full of more elves set up down on the floor below.

Between those two cages, in the center of the room, was a bald mage with a brown beard, wearing the colourful Tevinter mage robes splashed with yellow. He was surrounded by several guards, and turned to face them with an easy smile as they entered. "I am Caladrius. And you, I assume, must be the Grey Wardens I've heard so much about."

"Just how do you know who we are?" Aedan demanded, staring down at the mage. Ayla could tell just by the tension vibrating in his stance that he had no intention of letting this man go, and she was glad of it. She was spoiling for a good fight.

"One can hardly get a word out of Regent Loghain besides 'Warden' these days," Caladrius answered smoothly. "It surpassed even gold in popularity."

Aedan frowned, looking unsurprised at the mage's answer, though he asked, "How is that you know Loghain?"

"Yes, you would be curious about that, wouldn't you?" Caladrius drawled. "I have heard that you are trying to erode Loghain's support. It must be a difficult task, yes? Like washing away a mountain. Perhaps you could use some help."

"Oh, this should be good," Aedan snorted, looking down at the mage with open skepticism.

"Sarcasm is beneath us both, my dear Warden. Truth be told, there was always a limit to how long we were going to be able to operate here. We've paid for many of Loghain's troops, but once the Landsmeet is done we become . . . inconvenient." Caladrius shrugged, as if to say it was only to expected, before continuing, "So here is my offer: one hundred sovereigns from you for a letter with the seal of the Teyrn of Gwaren upon it, implicating him in all of this. Then we leave a few days earlier than planned, with our profits and remaining slaves, unharmed."

"'Tis a reasonable enough _starting_ offer," Morrigan mused thoughtfully, though Ayla knew she wasn't serious about it. Morrigan knew Aedan well enough to know he would never take that sort of a deal.

"I suggest you look those elves in the eyes before you agree to have them hauled off to slavery, my friend," Zevran snapped, fury lining his face as he looked back and forth between Aedan and the mage.

"You would not, would you?" Leliana exclaimed. "Slavery is not right; these elves deserve their freedom!"

"We're not really considering this, are we?" Alistair asked uncertainly, watching Aedan, who had not turned to face any of them yet.

"He won't take that deal," Ayla whispered to Alistair reassuringly, though even she was starting to have her doubts when Aedan had yet to say anything in reaction to any of the others. "He's just letting him talk to find out as much information as he can."

"So . . . do we have a deal?" Caladrius was watching Aedan closely, clearly trying to gauge his reaction as he continued, "Even you must admit it's much better than resorting to barbarism, yes?"

"Actually, I have a counter-offer," Aedan replied at last, shifting his stance, and Ayla smiled, knowing she'd been right all along as he reached for his sword. "My offer is: we kill you and take everything for free."

"Now that's not much of a deal, is it?" Caladrius sighed. "Let's do this the hard way, then. Men? Shall we?" He turned towards the guards, gesturing, and as one, they moved to attack.

Their party responded quickly; Aedan and Alistair moved to take on Caladrius together, as they had with Zathrian, while Morrigan cast defensive spells around their party in between blasts of lightning or ice. Leliana fired arrows in rapid succession from atop the balcony, while Ayla jumped the railing along with Zevran to attack the guards trying to defend Caladrius.

The guards went down quickly, in spite of being relatively skilled compared to some of the others they'd faced today; Ayla anticipated Zevran's moves easily, as he did hers, and they made a lethal fighting combination with the back-up from Leliana and Morrigan's ranged attacks. They had just brought down the last guard when Ayla heard the shout.

"Enough! Enough!" Caladrius was crying. He was down on his knees, bleeding from a few wounds, and Alistair had been just about to deliver a finishing blow from behind the mage when Aedan held up a hand from in front, halting him. "It . . . seems your reputation is an accurate one," Caladrius panted. "I surrender."

"Perhaps you should be left to the mercies of these elves?" Aedan suggested coldly, not bothering to sheath his sword as he looked down at the man.

"Wait!" Caladrius protested, holding up his hands defensively as he pleaded with Aedan, "Hear me out, good man! Were I to . . . use the life force of the remaining slaves here, I could . . . augment your physical health a great deal! Allow me to leave this place alive and I would be more than happy to do this little service for you. So is my offer of interest to you? Yes?"

"Blood magic? No, it isn't." Aedan looked over the mage's head at Alistair, and before the mage could say another word, Alistair delivered the finishing blow, taking the man's head off in one clean sweep.

With that, the fight was done; Zevran and Leliana went to pick the locks on the cages, while Ayla helped Aedan and Alistair loot the guards for anything of value they could use, and Morrigan healed up the minor wounds they'd received in the fight. Fortunately, Aedan discovered the proof they needed to implicate Loghain on the mage's body, tucked into a pocket of his robes; contracts and other such documents setting up the agreement between Loghain and the Tevinters.

Leliana and Zevran got the cages unlocked just as that was discovered, and one of the elves approached Aedan as he straightened up from Caladrius' body. He was elderly, with long white hair tied back in braids, and his clothes appeared to be of colored satin, rather than the rough cotton garments on most of the other elves. Ayla guessed that he must be the elder that Shianni had been looking for, as the elf said to Aedan, "You don't look like a Tevinter. Not that it means much. Are you one of them? What happens to us now?"

"You're free now," Aedan replied simply, before he went on to ask, "Are you Valendrian? Shianni was looking for you."

"Shianni . . . did she send you here?" The elderly elf looked slightly taken aback before a smile broke across his face when Aedan nodded. "Praise the Maker! We will not trespass long on your good graces. Come, everyone, let's go home." He gestured to the other elves, who eagerly followed him out the door on the opposite side of the room from where they'd entered, which appeared to lead back outside.

"I thank you for saving them," Zevran said formally to Aedan, bowing low.

"Yes, I apologize for doubting you," Leliana added, looking anxious, though Aedan waved off the apology.

"Of course I did, Zev. I wasn't about to let them become slaves. I just wanted to find out how much Caladrius knew about Loghain's involvement before we killed him. And as it happens, he had the papers we needed already with him." Aedan waved the papers before tucking them in his pouch. "I apologize if I caused anyone to doubt my motives. Anyway, let's get these documents back to Arl Eamon; we have a Landsmeet to win."

Everyone nodded as they followed him out the door to make their way back to the Arl's estate. Ayla hoped for the sake of Alistair and, indeed, everyone in Ferelden, that they'd gathered enough information to remove Loghain from power once the Landsmeet was finally held. She did not want to consider what might happen otherwise.


	51. Why Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan has a frank discussion with Anora about what has to happen at the Landsmeet; after returning to his room, he is surprised by Morrigan, who has already found out about his betrothal to Anora, leading to an argument between the two. Meanwhile, Ayla and Alistair go with Leliana to confront Marjolaine. Later that night, Alistair finds a very drunk Aedan in the dining room.

Chapter 50: Why Me?

Aedan headed up to the Arl's study alone after their return from the alienage. Leliana had asked if she could take some of the others with her to go look for Marjolaine, as there were still a few hours before dark, and Aedan had agreed, so she had left along with Ayla, Alistair, Zevran, Oghren, and Wynne. Morrigan and Sten had declined to go, as had Aedan himself.

He'd wanted to go help Leliana with her search, as he'd felt he owed it to the bard after all she'd done for him and Alistair, but he knew he needed to report what had happened in the alienage to the Arl, and more importantly, to Anora. He didn't want to have to be the one to tell Anora of yet another one of the appalling things her father had done, but he had little choice in the matter.

He should have been pleased to get such evidence against Loghain, to get the final piece that they needed for the Landsmeet, but he only felt tired. He was just getting so weary of hearing all the things that Loghain, the man he and everyone else had once admired, had done, and wondering how he could betray all of his countrymen so thoroughly. Indeed, how he could disappoint his daughter so thoroughly, and endanger her so readily, leaving Aedan to be the one to have to explain to her what had to happen.

Loghain had to face justice for all that he'd done, and Aedan wasn't about to take it easy on him, even if he was Anora's father. This meant that his discussion with Anora tonight would involve explaining to her why her father had to die, and it wasn't something he was looking forward to at all. Yet he could see no alternative; Loghain could not be allowed to live after all of the things he'd done, and how could he deny Alistair the vengeance he deserved, after Alistair had helped him with Howe without question?

So, he was dreading his upcoming talk with Anora, and had decided to visit Eamon first, putting off visiting Anora for as long as possible. He reached Eamon's study, and finding the door open, entered after a brief knock.

"Ah, there you are." Eamon smiled as he looked up from some paperwork on his desk, spotting Aedan immediately as he entered. "I was about to send out a search party. I've been hearing of a great commotion in the alienage. What exactly happened there?"

Aedan shook his head, hesitating for a moment before finally replying, "We discovered that Loghain was collaborating with Tevinter slavers. They were taking advantage of a plague in the alienage to set up a 'quarantine' to heal it, while they spirited away as many healthy elves as they could to sell. They were doing so with Loghain's express permission, so that they had no fear of any guards or authorities coming to stop them. Until we got there, anyway," he added with a touch of grim satisfaction. At least he could be glad that the slavers had been sent packing in the end, those that had still been alive, anyway.

Eamon stared at him for a moment, eyes wide in surprise. "Maker forgive me," he said at last. "I should be appalled that such a thing could exist here, but I'm overjoyed you can implicate Loghain. We must end the civil war quickly. What the Blight does not corrupt in this land, politics surely will. The last of our allies have arrived in the city and we cannot delay any longer; I will call for the Landsmeet to convene in the morning."

"What?" Aedan was shocked, and not pleasantly so. He'd thought that they had at least a few more days. "You said that the Landsmeet wouldn't be until the end of the week!"

"I had originally expected some of our allies to take longer to get here," Eamon explained, "and was merely waiting on their arrival. However, they reached Denerim today while you were at the alienage. I do not think there is any point in waiting longer, do you?"

"Well , no, I . . . suppose not," Aedan answered reluctantly. He'd expected to have more time with Morrigan before he had to tell her that he was going to marry Anora. But now, he would have to tell her tonight, for he could not allow her to find out at the Landsmeet along with the rest of Ferelden. That meant he had two difficult conversations to look forward to tonight, and wasn't that just perfect?

"If that is all, then, I have much to do tonight." Eamon turned his attention back to his desk, looking up briefly to say, "I will go ahead first thing in the morning. You come along as soon as you are able to, and bring Alistair with you."

"Yes, of course, my lord," Aedan responded automatically, turning towards the door. His mind was so full of all that he still had to do tonight that he didn't even notice someone else was coming in the door before he'd ran right into them.

"Maker, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention –" he began, before getting a good look at who it was; an older, dark-haired man with a beard, dressed in rogue's leathers. "Wait, aren't you the Warden we found in Howe's dungeon? Riordan, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's right," Riordan nodded his head, smiling at him. "I had just come to thank the Arl for his hospitality in allowing me to stay here while I recover. You are looking no worse for the wear after your stay in Fort Drakon, it would appear."

"Oh, you heard about that. Yes, it was a brief stay, and my healer has taken excellent care of me. What are your plans now?" Aedan asked, curious as to what the senior Warden intended to do now that he was free.

"When I'm well enough, I'm going to continue my journey towards Ostagar," Riordan answered. "Hopefully, I will be able to trace the heart of the Blight and where the archdemon itself abides. If we want to defeat this archdemon, we need to know where it is and how soon it might strike."

"That's a good point," Aedan admitted. Personally, if he never saw the archdemon again, he would be more than happy, but he knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. "We did see it down in the Deep Roads a couple of months ago, but it was heading for the surface, then. I don't know if it was going to Ostagar or not." He frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait, you're going alone? Shouldn't Alistair and I go with you?"

Riordan shrugged. "If there were more of us, I would agree. But as it is, I don't think we can deprive all the armies you've gathered of a commander, and there is much that needs to be done here as well, is there not? I don't believe it would be wise to take the two of you away. I will send word when I find something."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. We do have much to do here." Aedan slipped past Riordan in the doorway, nodding at him as the senior Warden entered the Arl's study. "With that in mind, I should get going."

"Good luck to you, then," Riordan nodded at him, and was about to turn away before he hesitated and looked back at Aedan. "We will have to talk again when the Landsmeet is more settled." His voice sounded heavy, almost reluctant, on the last words.

Aedan frowned, wondering what the older man was so reluctant to talk about right now, but he'd already closed the door to the Arl's study behind him. _Well, no matter_ , Aedan thought. He'd find out later.

He continued on down the hallway from Eamon's study towards Anora's room, though he was still less than eager to talk to her. He knocked on the door and entered when he heard her call permission.

"Oh, Aedan, it's you," she smiled warmly from her seat on one of the chairs in her room, gesturing for him to take the other one, which he did. "You are back from the alienage, then? What news do you bring?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid." Aedan proceeded to tell her what he'd just told the Arl, even showing her the papers he'd taken from the Tevinter mage so that there could be no doubt.

"I – I knew that my father had done something to upset the alienage, but this – I – I do not know what to say." Anora shook her head in disbelief. "I had not thought that he could stoop any lower, but . . . slavery?"

"I'm sorry, Anora," Aedan said quietly, watching as she set the papers down on the table as though they might bite. "I wish I could have brought you better news."

"No, Aedan, it is not your fault. You merely found what I asked you to find." Anora sighed. "At the very least, I suppose it means we have all that we could need for the Landsmeet."

"Yes, Arl Eamon is calling the Landsmeet together for tomorrow morning, now. Will you be ready?" He watched her closely, looking for any sign that she regretted the path she'd set herself on, but he found none.

"Yes," she replied firmly. "I will be ready to confront my father, and do what must be done."

"About that . . ." Aedan began reluctantly. "I did have something I wished to discuss with you before the Landsmeet, about your father."

She tilted her head, studying him, her expression carefully guarded. "What might that be?"

_Where to begin_? "I am sure you are already aware of this," he said carefully, "but he must be made to face justice for all that he has done. I am reluctant to say this, as he is your father, but I cannot be lenient with him. Especially when I cannot help but think that he set Howe upon my father to get him out of the way, as he tried to do with Arl Eamon. Howe was too much of a coward to do something like that without an assurance that he wouldn't face the consequences for it."

Anora was staring at him, wide-eyed, her hand over her mouth, shock printed very clearly on her face. "You cannot believe that he would do that!"

"Can't I?" Aedan asked quietly. "I do not think he knew the extent of what Howe planned to do, but I am certain he would have wanted my father out of the way, for my father would be opposing him, just as Eamon is. I have heard rumours that Cailan was being pressured to set you aside, and I do not doubt that your father would have wanted him out of the way before he could do that. I am certain he had a better plan than leaving him behind on the battlefield, but his hand must have been forced when the darkspawn attacked in such numbers. But Eamon was poisoned – and my father killed – _before_ Ostagar, which means it had all been planned for some time. And your father was the one who took the maleficar from Chantry justice and asked him to poison Eamon. He was also the one who hired assassins to come after Alistair and I. And this does not even include declaring war on his countrymen during the Blight, selling the elves into slavery, and imprisoning and torturing people merely for trying to tell their sides of what happened at Ostagar. After all of that, I cannot withhold justice, not even for you."

"I do see your point," she admitted quietly, her eyes downcast as she twisted her hands together. "I was not . . . fully aware of all that he had done. But . . . you are talking execution, are you not?"

He couldn't bring himself to lie to her, so he merely nodded. "I am."

There were tears slowly pooling in her eyes as she finally looked up at him. "Aedan . . . he is my father."

He sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He was so _tired_ , but this had to be done, and he was the only one who could convince her. "I know that, and I am sorry. But he cannot be seen to be above the law. Do you think he would not have had Alistair and I executed for treason, had we not escaped from Fort Drakon?" When she did not reply immediately, he went on, "I do not take any pleasure in the thought, but I have no choice. I just . . . wanted you to be prepared."

"Very well," she said at last, nodding slowly. "I see that there is truth in what you say. However, if you are the one to deliver the sentence . . . I am not certain that . . . I could ever look at you the same."

"I don't intend to be the one to carry it out," he answered her quietly. "The blood right is Alistair's."

"For Cailan, you mean? He didn't even know him!" she protested.

He shook his head. "Not for Cailan. Or, not only for Cailan. For the Wardens. Duncan was more of a father to Alistair than Maric ever was, and the other Wardens were more his brothers than Cailan. All those Wardens who died on that battlefield with Cailan; they're the ones that deserve justice, especially when their names have been slandered following their sacrifice. I will not proceed, however, if you do not agree. But I am not certain the Landsmeet will accept any less, once they hear everything he's done."

"I suppose you are right." Her tone was very flat and her expression carefully guarded as she finally said, "Very well. I will . . . always be my father's daughter, but I know he must be made to pay for his crimes." Her voice began to waver on the last few words, and she ducked her head, once again not meeting his eyes.

Aedan wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but after he'd been the one to force her to agree, he knew that his presence would be of no help to her right now; that she would want him to leave so that she could grieve in private, so he nodded formally at her before he got up and headed for the door. "I will see you in the morning," he said quietly as he left. "And I am sorry, Anora."

"I know you are, Aedan," came her soft reply as the door closed behind him, making him feel guiltier than ever. There was no love lost between him and Loghain, but he _was_ Anora's father, and that made the whole situation so much more difficult than it otherwise would have been. Still, Anora had agreed, and that was the important part, he reminded himself. And he'd done his duty; he hadn't blindsided her with it at the Landsmeet. He'd done all that he possibly could. Now, it was time to talk to Morrigan.

He went back to his room, intending to change out of his armor before visiting Morrigan, but was startled to see her waiting in his room for him, standing before the fireplace that his room boasted. She turned when he came in, her face unreadable. "So there are to be wedding bells? Did I hear this correctly?"

_Maker's balls!_ How had Morrigan even heard about it? Nobody should know except him and Anora! He hadn't even told Alistair yet! "How did you –" he began, shocked.

"I overheard her speaking about it with that maid of hers," Morrigan interrupted, her tone frosty as she stared at him. "Did you intend upon telling me?"

"Of course I did!" he protested, scrambling to explain. He'd expected to have a few more minutes to decide on what he was going to say; he hadn't planned on her confronting him so suddenly. "I had just – I wanted a few more days with you without that hanging between us, but I was going to tell you before the Landsmeet, I swear. Now the Landsmeet has been moved to tomorrow, so I was actually on my way to come tell you. But . . . it's purely a political arrangement, Morrigan. I did tell you that I would have to marry for politics, but that does not mean that I have any sort of feelings for Anora."

"Is that so?" she raised her eyebrows at him, her tone clearly disbelieving. "The two of you seem remarkably friendly with one another."

"Because we _are_ friends," he told her, exasperated. How many times did he have to tell her that she was the only one he loved? "I've known her since we were children. That's why it made the most sense; she's already the queen and we've actually met and spent time with one another. It was the most logical and advantageous match I could make."

She studied him, her golden gaze unreadable, keeping her emotions carefully concealed. "Is this why you asked me if I would stay with you? So that you could go straight to her if I refused you?"

"Well, yes," he admitted, holding up his hand and continuing hastily before she had a chance to say anything else, "but only because I needed to know before I made my plans with her, whether I would be reclaiming Highever with you by my side, or if I would need to arrange a marriage because you had refused me. And if you did, Anora is the only arranged marriage I felt I could even consider, because at least I _know_ her. I know that we can get along, and that's all. I needed to know, and I didn't have much time to figure it out, or I wouldn't have pushed you. I am sorry, Morrigan. But I do love you, and I will not break my vow to you, I swear it."

After a long moment in which he held his breath, praying, she finally nodded. "I understand. I did refuse you, and I did agree to be your mistress while you married another. I cannot fault you for seeking out the most power that you could obtain. I suppose . . . I am simply curious as to what your bride-to-be might think. Of me. Of us."

Aedan sighed heavily. He was relieved that Morrigan did not seem overly upset, but he couldn't help but feel as though he was still treading carefully amidst traps. "She doesn't know about us, and I do not intend to tell her. She would not have agreed to the arrangement if she suspected that I love another. So . . . I am hoping that you are willing to keep our agreement, and to keep it secret from anyone who might tell her. I know it's a lot to ask, Morrigan, and I'm sorry for being so selfish, but . . . I don't know what else to do."

"I had suspected all along that we would need to keep our agreement a secret. I am not ignorant of such matters, after all. I will do as you ask, then, and not allow her to find out. I would not worry on it. Things have a way of working themselves out, yes?" She smiled, but it was an unusual smile; he couldn't quite interpret whether she was truly pleased or not. But, she had agreed, and he didn't want to push his luck any more than he'd already had to.

"Thank you," he told her sincerely. Unable to help himself any longer, since she looked so damn beautiful standing there, and he needed her badly, he closed the distance between them, reaching for her where she stood at the fireplace. She evaded his grip, slipping past him gracefully towards the door. He turned to watch her go, suddenly and inexplicably crushed. "Do you not want to stay here tonight?" She'd stayed in his room every night they'd been here so far.

"I find I am weary, and I have much to think about," she replied evasively, looking towards the door. "I believe I would prefer to be alone for tonight."

Before he could say another word in protest or move to stop her, she'd slipped out the door. "Morrigan, you –" he went to hurry after her, deciding that she must still be upset with him, but by the time he'd reached the door, she was well on her way down the hallway already. Suddenly realizing how it would look if he chased her through the Arl's estate, he growled in frustration and slammed his fist against the wall. It looked like he would be sleeping alone tonight.

He started stripping his armor off, flinging it into the corner piece by piece in his irritation. By the time he'd gotten it all off, so that he was only in his cotton undergarments, he decided he was badly in need of a drink. There was no point being in his bed if it was going to be empty, after all. With that in mind, he left the room to go find himself some wine.

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"This must be where Marjolaine is," Leliana said uncertainly, stopped in front of an unimposing wooden house on the side streets of Denerim. The house sported peeling grey paint and damaged red shutters. "It matches the description and the location on the information we were given."

"Shall we go in, then?" Ayla prompted softly. She was standing next to Leliana at the door, while Alistair and the others were just behind them in the street.

"I . . .yes. I suppose it is best to get it over with." Leliana knocked hesitantly on the door. After a moment, it was opened by a large man in heavy plate armor sporting a warhammer on his back. He looked down at Leliana, then after a moment, grunted and stepped aside, gesturing that they should go in.

"It looks like it's a good thing we brought the others along," Alistair muttered. "I was thinking about letting you go in there with her alone, but there's no way I'm going to now."

Ayla smiled at him; his concern for her was sweet, if still a little irritating. As if she couldn't take care of that big brute herself. "So protective," she teased. "Come on then." She gestured for him to follow as she slipped through the door behind Leliana.

They passed through the small wooden entryway and into another room, much larger than Ayla had expected, given the size of the house. A fireplace was against the opposite wall, the smoke that came from it nearly choking the room, and there were tables and chairs scattered throughout the room. There were two more doors to the left and right leading to other areas of the house. A slender, dark-haired woman in a tight-fitting gown of brocade and lace, colored in blue and gold, turned to greet them as they entered. "Leliana!" She exclaimed in a heavily accented tone, smiling brightly. "Ah, so lovely to see you again, my dear."

Leliana scowled as they all stopped in front of the woman, the large guard going to stand by one of the doorways. "Spare me the pleasantries," Leliana snapped, "I know you're –"

"Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations," the woman drawled, interrupting whatever Leliana had been about to say. "I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with? This country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is in my hair, my clothes . . . ugh."

"Wait until she comes across the darkspawn," Alistair muttered from behind Ayla, making her smother a laugh as she watched the woman prattle emptily on. This Marjolaine made her skin crawl; absolutely nothing about the woman seemed genuine to her.

"Look," Ayla interrupted when Marjolaine didn't seem inclined to stop talking anytime soon, "we're not here to talk about how much you don't like Ferelden. Why did you send assassins after Leliana?"

Marjolaine tutted as she looked over at Leliana. "So business-like, your companion."

Halting the woman's conversation seemed to have focused Leliana. She glared at Marjolaine, planting her hands on her hips. "You framed me, had me caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not. What happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?"

"Dead?" Marjolaine exclaimed, sounding appalled, though the note rang just a bit false. "Nonsense. I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four, five men," she shrugged as though to say it was a paltry number, "you can dispatch easily. They were sent to give you cause to come to me. And see? Here you are."

"And we're just supposed to take your word for it that you weren't trying to kill her?" Ayla demanded. The more the woman talked, the more her instincts clamored at her, telling her that this woman couldn't be trusted and was dangerous.

Leliana shook her head, not waiting for a reply from the other bard, her voice ringing with anger as she addressed her. "You are so transparent. What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?"

"In truth?" Marjolaine asked, and suddenly the falsely jovial tone was gone. "You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana?" She began to pace back and forth in front of them as she talked, waving her hands for emphasis. "'What is she up to?' I thought. 'The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy . . . this is not her.' You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched . . . but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone. Clever, Leliana, very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me." The woman shrugged, as if the conclusion was perfectly obvious.

"She left to help us," Ayla snapped, annoyed. Why were they even still talking to this woman? She looked over at Leliana, hoping she was done listening, but the bard's focus was still on Marjolaine.

"You think I left because of you?" Leliana was exclaiming in disbelief. "You think I still have some plan for . . . for revenge? You are insane! Paranoid!"

"The Blight is what concerns Leliana now. She is helping us Wardens fight the darkspawn," Alistair added, coming up next to Ayla. She could feel his tension as he glanced over at the guard by the door to the left, then swiftly looked over at the door to the right. "Two mages," he breathed out so quietly that only she would be able to hear, and she frowned. Perhaps this wouldn't be as easy as they'd hoped.

"Oh, is that what you think?" Marjolaine scoffed, her tone derisive. "If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl – a friend, trusting and warm. It is an act."

"I am not you, Marjolaine," Leliana replied indignantly. "I left because I didn't want to become you."

"Oh, but you are me," the other bard said tauntingly. "You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one and the same. Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game; you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this."

"You're the one that's lying with every word out of your mouth," Ayla stated coolly. "Leliana, though, I know we can trust her." Leliana had never given her instincts cause for alarm; she trusted her wholeheartedly.

"Thank you." Leliana cast a brief smile in her direction before turning to Marjolaine. "You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, forever."

Ayla shook her head, telling Leliana in a low voice, "You can't let her get away with what she did. She'll do it all over again, I can tell you that now. She can't be trusted."

Leliana nodded, slowly, reluctantly, before she began reaching for her bow. "You've caused too much pain for too many, Marjolaine. It ends here."

"And you think you can kill me, like that?" Marjolaine sneered, gesturing to the guard by the door. He darted into the room behind him as she continued, "I made you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily."

"I can end this fast," Ayla muttered to Leliana, nodding at Marjolaine, ready to shift as the other party members drew their weapons and spread out. The guard returned just then, tossing a bow and a quiver of arrows to the other woman.

"No, leave her to me." Leliana's face was set as she drew her bow, and suddenly, the room was full to bursting as two mages came out of the doors on either side, along with another large warrior wielding a greatsword.

Oghren raced forward to meet that warrior, while Leliana began firing arrows at Marjolaine, who nimbly dodged them as she returned fire. Alistair had neutralized one of the mages even as he'd raced towards the other warrior, so Ayla followed him, slipping around the man as Alistair met him head on to go after the mage behind him. Meanwhile, Wynne was casting magic at the mage on the right side of the room, keeping him busy while Zevran went to finish him off.

Alistair's neutralization only lasted a short time; Ayla had only just gotten around the warrior when she felt the charge in the air and dove to the side, narrowly missing a blast of lightning. She came up throwing a dagger, however, and heard the satisfying grunt that signified she'd hit her target. She closed on the mage just as the magic was gathering around the end of his staff. Panicked, he tried to block her with his staff as she swung at him with one sword. Though he succeeded, her second sword slipped under the staff and straight through his stomach. The mage cried out and fell backwards; she delivered the finishing blow mercilessly before turning to check on the others.

Zevran had taken his mage down in much the same fashion with Wynne's help; Oghren was knocking the legs out from his warrior with a swing of his greataxe even as she looked, while Alistair's warrior was down on the ground, with Alistair slipping his sword through the man's neck. Leliana was fighting Marjolaine hand-to-hand with daggers, now, both women moving with incredible speed. Just as Ayla looked, however, Marjolaine slipped slightly on a patch of ice left on the floor from Wynne's magic, and it was just enough to give Leliana the advantage. Marjolaine's sudden cry was ruthlessly silenced by both of Leliana's daggers before the treacherous woman hit the floor.

Ayla made her way over to Leliana; her friend was standing over the other bard's body, her daggers hanging loose in her hands as she stared down at the blood pooling around Marjolaine. "It's over. She's dead. She's dead because of me."

"No, "Ayla said firmly, causing Leliana to look up at her. "She's dead because of _her_. If she had left well enough alone, you wouldn't have had to do this."

Leliana nodded jerkily, cleaning off her daggers before tucking them away. "I . . . I need some time to myself. We will talk later. We should return to the Arl's estate now."

Ayla nodded as Leliana headed for the door in a daze. She gestured to the others to follow, and after sheathing their weapons, everyone began making their way to the door.

"We just gonna leave all this mess here?" Oghren demanded as they reached the door, pointing behind them.

"We'll let Sergeant Kylon know," Alistair said quietly as they all trooped out of the house behind Leliana. "He'll take care of it."

"Good," the dwarf declared. "Well, if we're all done here, maybe I should head to that Pearl place again for the night."

"Oh, no you don't," Wynne scolded him, shaking her finger at him as they walked. "I will not heal your headaches two days in a row because you are unable to control yourself. You can return with the rest of us."

"Ah, my fine dwarven friend, you should not take advantage of our lovely mage's healing skills simply because you cannot hold your drink," Zev drawled teasingly.

"Who asked you, _elf_?" Oghren growled, shaking his fist at Zevran. "And I can so hold my sodding drink! Better than you can, you nug-humper!"

Alistair groaned, shaking his head. "Can we just get back to the Arl's? It's getting late." As they were making their way down the street, they passed one of the city guard, and Alistair quickly stopped the man to have him send a message to Kylon, while Zevran and Oghren continued to bicker merrily.

After he was finished, Alistair caught up to Ayla where she was walking several feet behind Leliana, listening to the argument behind her with amusement, while Wynne shook her head and ignored the two of them. "So," he said, smiling down at her, "with your sensitive nose, do you think Ferelden smells like wet dog?"

She shook her head, grinning back at him. "Not that I've noticed; for the most part, it smells pretty good." She tipped her head thoughtfully, studying him. "Have I ever told you that I love the way _you_ smell?"

"Me?" He looked startled, raising an arm to experimentally sniff at himself before he wrinkled his nose. "Don't I smell like - I don't know, darkspawn blood and guts and sweat most of the time? That can't be a good smell."

Ayla shrugged, smiling. "Sometimes you do, but only on the surface. Underneath, you smell like pine and just . . .you. And sometimes," she sidled up next to him to whisper, "you smell like _me_. I like that the best."

"Oh?" His voice was a low rumble, his eyes dark as he looked down at her. "Well, I am yours, after all. Do I smell like you now?"

She shook her head. "No, but we can fix that when we get back." She gave him a slow, wicked smile, watching him swallow.

"Then you'd better hurry up," he growled, and she grinned, picking up her pace as they made their way back to the Arl's. She couldn't wait to get Alistair alone; she wanted to take advantage of every night she could possibly spend with him. She spotted Leliana ahead of them again as she got closer, the bard's shoulders slumped as she hurried along, and sighed. She had helped her friend as promised, but she knew that wasn't the end of it. When Leliana was ready to talk, she would be waiting; she still owed her much, after all. For now, however, she would give the bard time and space to think about what had happened today, as she had asked. Later, there would be time enough to talk to her when she needed it.

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Alistair made his way down to the kitchens, yawning. After they'd returned from helping Leliana, he and Ayla had gone straight up to his room. He'd fully intended to eat at some point, but after the way she'd riled him up on the walk back, they'd never made it back out again. With both of their passions running high, he'd tossed her onto the bed and eventually, she had flipped him over, riding him fast and wild until they'd both slipped over the edge, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs.

It was one of his favourite ways to make love with her, he had to admit. He loved watching the graceful lines of her body and the way her breasts moved as she rode him; the way he could see and reach all of her so easily. Just thinking about it almost made him forget about the food and go back to wake her up, but then his stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him of why he'd woken up in the middle of the night in the first place.

He'd eat first, he decided, slipping through the door into the kitchens, and then he'd go back and see if she was awake. He found some cheese, bread and dried meat easily enough, and went to the dining room to find somewhere to sit. He was surprised to see a lantern burning on the table already when he entered; he was even more surprised to see Aedan sitting there with his back to him, a bottle of wine in one hand with a half-empty glass in front of him.

"Hey, brother," he slurred as he turned and saw Alistair in the doorway. "Come have a drink!" He waved the bottle in one hand for emphasis.

"Aedan, what are you doing up still?" Alistair tried to recall when he'd ever seen Aedan actually drink more than one ale, and couldn't think of a single instance as he circled the table, setting his food down across from his fellow Warden before sitting in the chair opposite. He noticed two more empty wine bottles lying on the table, and wondered just how drunk Aedan was.

"Drinking this very fine bottle of wine, of course. It's terrific stuff. Here!" He filled up the glass to the rim and shoved it across the table to Alistair, spilling a good deal in the process.

"I can see that," Alistair said dryly, ignoring the glass in favour of his food, "but _why_ are you drinking? The Landsmeet is tomorrow morning now, isn't it?" One of the servants had informed them of the change the minute they'd returned to the estate, and though it was a lot sooner than Alistair had been expecting, at least that meant it would be over soon.

"It is, and that –" Aedan hiccupped – "is exactly why I'm drinking! Anora hates me, 'cause even though we're going to get married, I won't spare her father, and Morrigan hates me 'cause I'm getting married. It was a good plan, Alistair, why doesn't anybody like it?"

"You what?!" Alistair wondered if he'd heard right as he stared at Aedan in shock. Aedan hadn't yet told him everything he'd talked about with Anora and the Arl, since they'd had little time to discuss things, but he certainly hadn't expected to hear that Aedan was going to marry Anora, of all things. "But you love Morrigan!"

"'Course I do." Aedan took a long, messy drink straight from the bottle, wiping his mouth off before confiding, "I asked her to marry me first, y'know. She won't do it 'cause I won't leave the court. Doesn't want to be a nobleman's wife, she says. And I wouldn't leave with her. I want to change things, be somebody, and have – y'know –" he waved his hand vaguely – "power. So I asked Anora to marry me. Wanted to be the king." He stared sadly at the bottle for a long moment. "Kind of wish I wasn't ambitious. Then I could've left with her. Wouldn't have had to ask her to be my mistress."

"You know, you could always change your mind," Alistair suggested quietly. "You don't have to marry Anora if that's not what you want." He was surprised to hear this all come tumbling out of Aedan; he would never have suspected his Warden brother held such ambition.

"No, but I do - I want to. I want to be the leader, the King or Teyrn or . . . whatever I can get," Aedan mumbled, sloshing the wine around in the bottle. "I was always jealous of my brother, y'know. Fergus. I begged my father to teach me everything he taught him. I told him I wanted to help Fergus, but really, I wanted to _be_ Fergus. Then I got my wish - - my brother died, and I was the heir." He laughed bitterly, his eyes glazed and far away as if he was seeing something else.

_How much does he keep bottled up inside?_ Alistair wondered incredulously, aching for the pain and bitterness in Aedan's voice. He didn't know how to help him, though. What could he possibly do to make anything better? "He might still be alive," Alistair offered tentatively, remembering that Fergus had not been at Highever with the others but rather out scouting the Wilds. It was unlikely he'd survived, but no one had officially declared him dead, after all.

"He's dead, Alistair, you know he is! He's dead and I'm still alive!" Aedan slammed his fist down on the table, rocking the wine bottles.

"That's not your fault," Alistair protested. Maker, he wished he knew how to comfort people in these sorts of situations.

"No." Aedan shook his head, the anger gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "Not my fault." He fixed Alistair with an intense stare. "But why? Why should I get to be alive still? Why me? Why do I get to keep avoiding death, when none of my family could?"

"I wish I knew," Alistair muttered, thinking of the Wardens. It was the exact question he'd asked himself so many times, why he'd survived when everyone else had died on that battlefield. He still didn't know the answer, but he wouldn't let himself think he should have died with them, not any longer. He had promised Ayla, after all. "Maybe it's fate. But if it makes you feel any better, the taint will get you eventually anyway," he added wryly, wincing when he realized his customary sarcasm might not have been the best way to go; but fortunately, Aedan didn't look offended.

"Y'know, you're right!" Aedan exclaimed, pointing at him. "I'm a Warden, so I can go die down in the Deep Roads later. Thanks, Alistair!" He took another swig from the bottle.

"You're welcome?" Alistair replied uncertainly. He was having a little trouble keeping up with a drunken Aedan's mood swings, he had to admit. But still, he wanted to say _something_ to make him feel better, even if Aedan might not get it all right now. "I'll support you, whatever you want to do, you know. I've followed you for months now, and you've never led us wrong. So if you want to be the King, be the King. If you want to stay with the Wardens, be the Warden Commander. If you want to leave and go travelling with Morrigan, then go. I've got your back, no matter what, brother."

"Thanks," Aedan said quietly, and his eyes suddenly looked the clearest they had been as he met Alistair's gaze. "But . . . this is what I want – or the closest thing I can get, I think. Morrigan said she'd be my mistress – unless she changed her mind. I just . . . I don't know . . . needed to talk about it?" He frowned, a strange expression crossing his face as he set the bottle down and laid his head on the table. "I don't feel so good, Alistair."

"Come on." Alistair got up and went over to him, pulling Aedan to his feet. "You need to rest. Let's get you up to your room."

"Don't want to," Aedan protested weakly, though he allowed Alistair to pull his arm over his shoulder before he began walking him out of the dining room towards the stairs. It was a little difficult, with Aedan weaving everywhere and barely supporting his own weight, but somehow Alistair managed to steer him in the right direction. "My bed is empty. She hates me."

Alistair couldn't blame him for not wanting to go back to his room. Maker forbid, if he ever had a fight with Ayla and she left him to sleep alone, he'd be drowning himself in a bottle of wine, too. But he wouldn't leave Aedan alone down here to drink himself completely sick, any more than Aedan would leave him. "No, she doesn't," he reassured Aedan. "She's just thinking things through; they both are. You'll be yourself in the morning, and you'll talk them both around like you always do. You'll see. But you need to sleep so you can do that."

"You think so? Really?" Aedan asked hopefully as Alistair dragged him up the stairs to his room.

"I know so," Alistair promised, though of course he wasn't really sure. But he knew it was what Aedan needed to hear right now. "It is a good plan, they'll like it in the end, I'm sure."

They finally made it into Aedan's room, and Alistair heaved him onto the bed. "Get some sleep," he advised. "And I'll get Wynne to come by in the morning, heal that massive headache you're going to have. We'll figure it out; we always do."

"I can't have my perfect happy ending," Aedan mumbled as he rolled over on the bed before looking up at Alistair. "But I can give you yours, brother, and I will."

"Thanks, Aedan," Alistair said softly, surprised and touched at his fellow Warden's promise. "Anything I can do to get _you_ what you want, just let me know, and I will. Good night," he added, before he left the room and closed the door.

He wondered, as he headed back to his own room, how much Aedan would remember the next morning. It was obvious that he would have to watch him more closely, and make sure Aedan had help when he needed it. He took too much on his own shoulders, and bottled things up too much. Alistair promised himself that from now on, he would do whatever he could to lighten that burden for his brother. And they clearly had much to discuss once Aedan was sober again; he would have to talk to him before they left for the Landsmeet in the morning. He just hoped that he'd been right when he told Aedan it would all work out.


	52. The Landsmeet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan wakes up hungover the morning of the Landsmeet, and speaks briefly to Alistair, who ends up bringing Morrigan to his room to heal him, leaving the two of them alone to talk things out. Later, the party leaves for the castle, running into Cauthrien on the way, before finally entering the Landsmeet and confronting Loghain at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that as of this chapter, I have posted all the chapters that are already written. There will now be a wait for future chapters, though there should only be about seven more if my plan works out. I will however post the future chapters at the same time on this site as I get them finished and posted for fanfic.net, so there should be a new chapter biweekly if my schedule allows. I hope everyone has enjoyed the story so far and continues to read until the end!

Chapter 51: The Landsmeet

Aedan slowly sat up, carefully holding his head in his hands. He didn't even have the energy to groan; his head was throbbing painfully, as though his brain was trying to burst free of the confines of his skull. His mouth was as dry as though as he'd swallowed wool, and he could remember little of last night after he'd found the Arl's wine stores. He'd thought the wine had been a good idea at the time, but now he was sincerely regretting it.

The door to his room crashed open at that moment; well, maybe it just opened, but with the way the sound reverberated through his aching head, it might as well have been a crash. "Aedan, are you awake?" Alistair asked, peeking around the corner of the door.

"Unfortunately, yes, I am," Aedan muttered, not letting go of his head.

"Ah," Alistair grimaced sympathetically, coming over to the bed and handing him a glass of water. "I thought I'd make sure you were up before I went to get Wynne to fix that for you. We have to leave soon for the Landsmeet."

"Yes, the Landsmeet." He took a much-needed drink of the water. He knew he needed to get up, but he didn't think he could move right at the moment. Alistair was already turning to leave, but he held up a hand to stop him. "Wait. Do you . . . know what happened last night?"

Alistair had turned back at his call, and nodded in answer. "You were getting drunk alone in the dining room when I found you. You thought Morrigan and Anora both hated you."

"Right." Aedan remembered it now; the frustration and despair that had driven him down there, that had forced him to find anything to take his mind off of what had happened. "And did I tell you why?"

"Yes. I was a little surprised to hear you were marrying Anora rather than Morrigan, and that you were going to be king, I have to admit." Alistair then proceeded to tell him the entirety of their conversation last night, and once he was done, studied Aedan for a moment, frowning. "You're sure, though, that this is what you really want?"

 _Am I sure?_ His brain was a little fuzzy as it worked through his answer, but in the end, he nodded slowly, grimacing at the pain that throbbed anew through his head as he did his best to explain, picking his way carefully through the words. "Yes. I want to stay in court, to able to make a difference for Ferelden. And Morrigan won't stay with me, won't marry me, if I do; I already asked her. So I would have to marry another woman for political reasons anyway, and if I am going to, it might as well be Anora. There was a time when I wanted to marry her, before she said yes to Cailan. And Morrigan had said yes to being my mistress, to seeing each other when we could, before last night. So yes, I think out of the choices that I have, this is the best way to go."

"So, your plan is to leave the Wardens, then, once the Blight is over?" Alistair asked carefully.

"Yes," Aedan admitted quietly. "I'm sorry, but I think I can do more for Ferelden this way. So you'll have to take over being Warden Commander, I'm afraid."

"Me?" Alistair stared at him incredulously. "Be the Warden Commander? Do you really think I can?"

"Yes," Aedan replied firmly. "I think you can and I think you should. And I think it's what Duncan would have wanted."

"Duncan would have wanted me to be Warden Commander, huh?" There was a faraway look in Alistair's eyes as he considered it, before he suddenly nodded and met Aedan's gaze again, smirking. "So this was your true plan, Your Majesty?"

"Ugh, no, don't call me that," Aedan frowned at him. "Especially not you, when I'm taking what's yours by right."

Alistair snorted. "Why is it mine by right? Because the man who accidentally fathered me and wanted nothing to do with me just happened to be a king? No, thank you. I'll stick with being a Warden. That I know I did something to earn." He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and looking faintly embarrassed. "Anyway, if someone has to take my supposed birthright, I'd rather it be you than anyone else. At least I trust you to do what's right by Ferelden."

Aedan smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days with the trust Alistair had just placed in him. At least _someone_ believed in him and agreed with his plan. "Thanks, brother. I'll do my best to live up to your trust. And it's good to know that at least _somebody_ agrees with my plan."

"Of course. Like I told you last night, I've got your back, whatever you decide to do. And if you're worried about Morrigan and Anora, don't be. They just needed time to think, I'm sure."

"I hope you're right," Aedan said softly. "Now, can you please find Wynne for me before my skull splits open?"

Alistair grinned. "Of course. I'll be right back." He turned and left the room, leaving Aedan alone for the moment; he didn't bother to move from his place on the bed, merely continued to sip his water slowly.

Alistair returned only a few minutes later, but instead of Wynne, it was Morrigan who followed him into the room. Aedan felt frozen at the sight of her, unable to move when his love's unreadable gaze met his, as Alistair said, "I was on my way to Wynne's room when I ran into Morrigan. She insisted on coming along when I said I needed a healer for you." Before Aedan could find the wits to respond, Alistair continued, "Anyway, I need to go finish getting ready myself. I'll meet you in the front hall when she's done."

He'd closed the door behind him and Morrigan had crossed the room and reached the side of the bed before Aedan found his tongue again. "What did he tell you?"

"That you foolishly drank yourself into a stupor last night," Morrigan replied calmly, "even though you knew this Landsmeet of yours was this morning, and now you need a healer so you may attend."

"Okay, yes, it was foolish," Aedan mumbled, not meeting her eyes because he was afraid of what he would – or wouldn't – see there. "But . . . I thought you hated me and I had nothing left to lose, so I –" he abruptly stopped talking as she laid her hand gently on his head and he felt the warm glow of her healing magic pass through him, taking the pain away with it. He looked up at her, sudden hope flooding him. "Was I wrong?"

Morrigan sighed in exasperation, shaking her head at him, though her eyes held a warmth he hadn't expected to see again. "Of course you were. Why would you think that I hated you?"

"Because you left me alone!" Aedan exclaimed, hating himself for the weakness of his words but unable to stop them from tumbling out right now. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with me anymore!"

"I left so I could be alone to think, as I told you," she replied quietly. "Do you think that if I truly did not want to be around you anymore, that I would not have said so directly? Have I ever not said what I truly thought?"

"Well . . . no," Aedan admitted, thinking of all the times she'd disagreed with him or been angry with him, when she'd told him bluntly, in no uncertain terms, exactly what she thought. "But . . . you seemed upset about Anora, and . . . I know it might have been sooner than you'd expected, but I thought you'd agreed and understood that I would have to marry for political gain. But then with your reaction, it seemed as though you must have changed your mind and I . . ." He shrugged, realizing now that he'd probably overreacted last night. "I didn't know what I was going to do if you had."

"Do not worry, I have not changed my mind." She met his gaze, sure and certain, and his heart overflowed with warmth and relief. "As I told you, I am not entirely ignorant of such matters. When you said you were going to wed for political gain, I suspected all along that you meant that Anora woman. And I believed I had accepted that fact, but when I heard her talking of it to her maid, it . . . was harder to hear than I had expected it to be. Especially when she talked of how you had asked her to marry you once before."

"I did, and I am sorry if hearing of it hurt you, but . . . it was a long time ago," he said, trying his best to explain it to her, to make her understand. "I was young, and I thought what I felt for her then was love, but I know now that I have met you that it was not. It was merely a shadow of what I feel for you. So please, Morrigan, tell me that I have not lost you, that you still will be mine when you can."

She nodded slowly. "I have had my time to think matters through, and I am certain now. What I promised you before is still what I want, though it may be harder to deal with than I had expected. I . . . want you, whenever I can have you."

"Thank the Maker," Aedan breathed, before he pulled her down into his lap and kissed her, softly, tenderly, wanting to savour the moment as much as he could. After a long moment, he reluctantly pulled back, knowing he had little time to spend with her right now. "As often as I can manage it, I will be with you, I promise you."

"I know you will." She smiled gently at him, a smile that warmed him from the inside out, as he felt certain it was a smile only he got to see, before she went on sternly, "Do not expect that I will heal a drunken headache of yours again, however. If it occurs again, you will simply have to suffer through your foolishness."

He grinned, feeling so much better now, in both body and heart, that he could scarcely believe it. "Of course, my lovely witch. Whatever you say. Now, I do need to get to the Landsmeet. Are you coming along?"

"No, I think not." Morrigan shook her head as he stood up, setting her down on her feet so he could go get changed. "I see no need for my presence there, and I would rather not be present to hear the announcement of your betrothal to another."

"Ah, of course not. I'm sorry," he apologized. He hadn't thought of that aspect of it, only that he wanted her there. She waved off his apology as he went on, "Then I will see you when I get back. Soon, I hope."

She nodded, leaving the room as he quickly cleaned himself up as best he could and put his armor and sword on. He hoped he would not need them, but it was better that he was prepared for the possibility. When he arrived at the front hall moments later, it was to find Alistair, Ayla, Wynne, Zevran, and Leliana waiting, all of them dressed for possible battle as well.

"Oghren and Sten didn't want to come," Alistair explained when he arrived. "Oghren said he'd had enough of arguing noblemen in Orzammar, and you know how Sten feels about non-qunari politics."

"Morrigan wasn't interested, either," Aedan answered, and saw the brief flash of understanding in Alistair's eyes as he nodded. "It's probably just as well we have a smaller party, anyway. Having all of us there might have been seen as too much of an intimidation tactic."

Before he could continue, Anora entered the hall, looking weary but determined, her head high and back straight as always. "The Arl has gone on ahead, and I will follow shortly," she informed him. "You must leave as soon as possible, however. My father will waste no time in wresting the proceedings from Eamon, and he will need your help."

He met her gaze, searching for any sign that she was angry with him because of what they'd discussed last night, but he could see none. "Are you prepared?" he asked her quietly, and after a moment's hesitation, added, "Are we still in agreement?"

She nodded, firmly, and he nearly sighed in relief as she replied, "I am, yes. And we are. I will see you there, my betrothed, and may the Maker smile upon you."

He gave her his best formal bow. "May He smile upon us all." Nodding to her, he turned to the others. "Let's get to the palace as soon as we can, and get this over with." He led them out of the estate and towards the Landsmeet, at long last.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aedan sighed inwardly. They had made into the palace itself without any incident, yet he couldn't say he was surprised when they entered the main hallway just before the Landsmeet chambers to discover Cauthrien waiting for them. She was blocking their path with only five men this time, her hand on her sword as she stood in the middle of the blue carpet that led up to the doors of the Landsmeet, glaring at them.

"Warden, I am not surprised it has come to this," she said scornfully to Aedan, before turning her freezing gaze on Alistair next to him. "And Alistair. If you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, wouldn't you?"

Aedan winced as he heard the expected snarl behind him; any moment, he thought an angry black panther might spring past him, especially considering Cauthrien was the one who'd taken them to Fort Drakon. But instead, all he heard was Alistair whispering, "Easy, love. Remember, you can't lose your temper here," and Ayla's huffed reply of, "Fine. Even if she deserves it, I won't rip her head off her shoulders."

Cauthrien, apparently oblivious to the danger she'd just been in, was continuing, "You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom. But do not think you will get past me to desecrate the Landsmeet itself. The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent, and we can finally put this to rest, once you are gone."

"Honestly, Cauthrien, have you so little honour that you would stoop to this now? Or so little trust in your lord's chances that you have to prevent us from entering the Landsmeet?" Aedan watched her mouth tighten with a small measure of satisfaction. He knew that Cauthrien was a decent woman, that it was her blind loyalty to Loghain making her act this way, and that was the only reason he hadn't given the signal to attack; the only reason he was going to try to talk her out of this course before he had to kill her. Still, she'd been an awful annoyance, and it would be nice to take her down a peg or two. "I think you and I both know, Cauthrien, that he's no longer the man he once was. Do you really not see what he has become?"

Cauthrien frowned, the sure certainty in her gaze wavering just a little. "I'm aware that he has changed . . . it has been difficult for him to realize his own countrymen would turn against him."

"No more difficult than it was for us to accept that he'd try to kill us," Alistair muttered, and Aedan nodded his agreement. He'd grown up on tales of the hero general, besides being close with his daughter, and to have that same man send soldiers and assassins after them had been a hard blow.

Cauthrien, either having not heard Alistair's statement or deciding to ignore it, went on, "I'm not surprised he is bitter. But he is still a great man. One of the best Ferelden has seen."

"Would a great man let Arl Howe torture his subjects?" Aedan demanded when Cauthrien's attention was finally focused on him again.

"You think war is simple, don't you, Warden?" Cauthrien snapped, crossing her arms as she faced him. "You only fight monsters. No one sheds a tear over the death of an ogre. Torture is an ugly business. But sometimes it's the only way to learn what your enemy intends. And it is much harder to tell who the enemy is when all of them look like you."

Aedan shook his head, wondering just how many of Loghain's crimes Cauthrien would be willing to justify. But he did not want to kill her merely because she was loyal to the man, and he could tell she wasn't keen to fight them either, or she would have attacked already. So, determined to make her see reason, he pushed on, saying, "Oh? It was hard to tell whether or not Oswyn Sighard was his enemy, when Loghain had him imprisoned and tortured for merely _hearing_ that he turned around on the battlefield rather than save Cailan? He didn't know if his own daughter was his enemy or not when he allowed Howe to imprison her? He's sold his own people into slavery to fund his civil war and tried to have Arl Eamon killed. How can you keep supporting him, Cauthrien?"

Cauthrien stared at him, wide-eyed, a tortured look building on her face before she threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine, you are right. Loghain is a great man, but his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness. He has done terrible things, I know it, but I owe him everything. I cannot betray him, do not ask me to!"

Aedan tried to ignore the desperate plea in her voice and the sting of his own conscience, knowing what he was about to do to Loghain, as he said gently, "It would not be betrayal if you simply allowed me to attend the Landsmeet as planned, to stop his hatred before it grows worse."

He waited with bated breath as Cauthrien stared at him for a long moment, the struggle on her face clear, before she dipped her head finally in acknowledgement and defeat. "I wish I had died at Ostagar rather than live to see this moment. Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved. Please . . . show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend."

Aedan merely nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak, and Cauthrien stepped aside, gesturing to her men, allowing them to pass. Without looking back, Aedan strode forward to the double doors, pushing them open as he reached them, the others following him into the Landsmeet chamber. The room was filled with the nobles of Ferelden, who lined the balconies along the wall on both sides and the carpeted stone floor below. Most of the noblemen and women were dressed in their finest silks, but others were outfitted in their finest armor, polished until it shone, meaning they would not be out of place dressed as they were.

Aedan made his way through the hall towards where Loghain stood at the front, weaving his way through the crowd with the others following behind, as Arl Eamon's voice boomed from the balcony above. "My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up freedoms, our traditions, out of fear. He placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?"

Eamon's speech was met with cheers and claps from some of the crowd, though others remained silent, and the crowd went completely silent when Loghain stepped forward. "A fine performance, Eamon," he drawled as he slowly clapped with fake enthusiasm, "but no one here is taken in by it. You would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is 'Who would pull the strings?'"

By this time, Aedan had reached the front of the crowd and was about to respond to Loghain when the general spotted him first, crying out, "Ah! And here we have the puppeteer! Tell us, Warden," Loghain continued before Aedan could get a word in edgewise, "how will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? What did they offer you? How much is the price of Fereldan honour now?"

Aedan stopped a few feet away from Loghain, facing him head-on, holding his head high and not flinching from the angry heat of the older man's glare as he replied, shrugging, "Well, _if_ I was actually trying to sell out my countrymen to Orlais or _if_ I had even spoken to an Orlesian in the last several months, I might be able to tell you. But as it is, I've been far too busy fighting the soldiers and assassins you've sent after us as well as the darkspawn that you seem to be content to ignore to even have time for this imagined betrayal of yours. I'm really more concerned at the moment with the Blight threatening Fereldan's doorstep to worry about Orlais, Loghain, and so should you be."

"There are enough refugees in my Bannorn now to make that abundantly clear," Bann Alfstanna called from the balcony to Aedan's left as other noblemen shouted in agreement.

"The south is fallen, Loghain!" Arl Wulff added, looking no less devastated and exhausted than he had a few days ago in the tavern when Aedan had seen him, and discovered that his entire arling had fallen to the Blight. "Will you let darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?" the Arl finished, and Aedan watched closely to see Loghain's reaction.

"The Blight is indeed real, Wulff," Loghain answered agreeably, before raising his voice and shouting to the assembly in general, "But do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers."

"Answer the question yourself, Loghain," Aedan interrupted the general, ice in his tone. He was as sick of hearing the Wardens slandered as Alistair was. "Have you heard of _any_ Blight defeated without the Grey Wardens? Because if you have, do let us know how it was done. Surely, if Blights were so easy to defeat, the Wardens would never have been created in the first place. And the reason why the Wardens were defeated at Ostagar was because they were expecting _help that never came_."

Loghain glared at him fiercely, but recovered easily enough, asking, "Why do you not explain to us, Warden, how you expect to win with just the two of you? Or would you insist we open our borders to these Orlesian Wardens with their chevaliers? And once we open our borders to the chevaliers, can we really expect them to return from whence they came?"

Time for a change in tactics, Aedan decided. He wouldn't get far arguing about the Orlesians with Loghain; distrust of them ran too deep in Ferelden anyway, nor could he explain just how Wardens defeated darkspawn. He briefly considered bringing up Cailan, but Loghain had had ample time to come up with a defense for that by now; best to hit him with something he wouldn't be expecting. "Perhaps our fellow countrymen should be less worried about what the Orlesians would do to them, and more worried about _you_ , Loghain. Since I have right here the proof that states you've been selling Fereldan citizens into slavery to fund your war."

"What's this?" shouted another nobleman from the balcony, outrage dripping through his tones as the noise in the crowd swelled. "There is no slavery in Ferelden. Explain yourself!"

Loghain turned to the balcony, addressing the outraged nobleman directly. "There is no saving the alienage. Damage from the riots has yet to be repaired. There are bodies still rotting in their homes. It is not a place I would send my worst enemy. There is no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here." Turning back to Aedan, he added frostily, "Despite what you may think, Warden, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden."

"You forget, Loghain, I've been in the alienage too," Aedan returned evenly, crossing his arms as he stared the man down. "The damage is not nearly so bad as you claim, and the elves I spoke to were less than pleased to be losing their friends and family members to slavery. But let's talk about your regrets some more, shall we? For instance, do you regret having a blood mage poison Arl Eamon?"

There was just the slightest flare of alarm in Loghain's eyes that Aedan only caught because he was watching so closely. Otherwise, Loghain was perfectly calm and scornful as he replied, "I assure you, Warden, if I were going to send someone, it would be my own soldiers. I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate."

"Indeed?" Alfstanna called from the balcony again, and Aedan just barely managed to restrain his smile. She couldn't have timed her support any more perfectly, and now the Chantry would know what Loghain had done, as well, as she continued, "My brother tells a very different tale. He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry's justice. Coincidence?"

The Grand Cleric herself strode forward to the balustrade, glaring down at Loghain as she snapped, "Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain. Interference in a Templar's sacred duties is an offense against the Maker."

"Whatever I have done, I will answer for later. At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter." Loghain pointed an accusing finger at Aedan, and all eyes in the hall followed the gesture.

"What have I done with her?" Aedan demanded incredulously, wondering if Loghain really _had_ lost his mind. "Besides protecting her from you and the man you allowed to imprison her, you mean?"

"You took my daughter – our queen – by force, killing her guards in the process," Loghain snarled at him. Throwing his hands up in the air, the general shouted, "What arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?"

"I believe I can speak for myself," Anora stated as she swept into the room from the door behind Loghain, off to the right of the throne. Aedan could hear gasps from the crowd behind him, and nearly rolled his eyes. Trust Anora to make the most dramatic entrance possible.

Anora stopped at the front of the room, in front of Loghain who was staring at her speechlessly, folding her hands in front of her as she called out, "Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My father is no longer the man you know. This man is not the hero of River Dane." She pointed her finger at him as she continued passionately, "This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not reveal his treachery. I would have already been killed, if not for the Wardens and their companions, and this Warden in particular, Aedan Cousland."

Aedan nodded, turning to the crowd to address them as well, knowing it was time to deal the finishing blow. Loghain was done for. "The queen speaks the truth – when we rescued her, she was in fear for her life from the same man who slaughtered my family, while her own father did nothing to save her."

"So the Warden's influence has poisoned even your mind, Anora?" Loghain asked heavily, staring at his daughter. "I wanted to protect you from this." Before Anora could reply, he'd turned to address the crowd, raising his voice as he called out, "My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It's been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldans have proven that we will never truly be conquered so long as we are united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself!"

Aedan held his breath, knowing that now was the time the nobles would reveal where their support lay, and praying that he was right; that they'd collected enough evidence, and Loghain was truly finished. He nearly sagged with relief as the voices began to rain down from the balconies above.

"South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens."

"Waking Sea stands with the Grey Wardens!"

"Dragon's Peak supports the Wardens!"

"The Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens. Maker help us."

"I stand by Loghain! We've no hope of victory otherwise."

"I stand with the Warden! The Blight is coming; we need the Grey Wardens!"

The Maker had answered his prayers, Aedan thought gratefully. Only one vote in favour of Loghain; he could not have hoped for a better outcome. Now he just needed to get Loghain to accept it. He turned from the crowd back to the general. "It appears the Landsmeet has ruled against you, Loghain. Now would be the time to step down gracefully."

"Traitors!" Loghain snarled, turning in a circle as he shouted at the gathered noblemen. "Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your field and raped your wives? You fought with us once, Eamon." He pointed accusingly at the Arl, who simply stared down at him, pity in his eyes as Loghain ranted on. "You cared about this land once. Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!"

 _He's really lost his mind._ Aedan watched the soldiers who were gathering behind Loghain warily. He needed to diffuse the situation before it turned into an all-out battle. "Call off your men, Loghain, and allow us to settle this honourably." He stared at the man, willing him to see some reason, at least.

After a long, tense moment, Loghain nodded shortly. "Then let us end this. I suppose we both knew it would come to this. A man is made by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once. I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or me." He had a faraway look in his eyes, before they suddenly sharpened into focus as his gaze returned to Aedan. "Enough. Let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel."

It was Alfstanna who took it upon herself to set the terms, leaning over the balcony to state, "It shall be fought according to tradition; a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

"Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?" Loghain demanded.

Aedan turned to look at Alistair, who was waiting behind him along with the others. Alistair nodded in answer, determination stamped on his face. "The right to face you belongs to Alistair," Aedan said, turning back to Loghain. "He is the one you have wronged the most."

"Then let us test the mettle of our would-be king. Prepare yourself!" Loghain shouted, as he strapped on his shield and drew his sword, backing up to the open area of the hall, just in front of the thrones and away from the balconies.

Aedan moved back, passing Alistair as the other nobles in the hall drew back to allow more room. Alistair caught his arm as he went past; Aedan stopped to face his Warden brother questioningly. "Do you have this?"

"Yeah, I've got him," Alistair answered grimly, anger blazing in his eyes as he stared past Aedan at Loghain. "It - won't be easy, though, so keep an eye on Ayla for me, okay? Make sure she doesn't lose her temper."

"Of course," Aedan agreed. "Be careful."

Alistair merely nodded in reply as he moved towards Loghain, strapping his own shield on and drawing his longsword. Aedan reached the spot where their other companions waited, quickly and quietly asking Zevran and Leliana to go keep an eye out for any signs of treachery, before he finally stopped next to Ayla. She was standing straight, watching Alistair's back as he walked towards Loghain, and though her face was expressionless, he could see the tenseness of her shoulders. "He'll be fine," Aedan whispered to her. "People tend to underestimate Alistair; Maker, even _he_ underestimates himself sometimes. Loghain won't know what hit him."

Ayla didn't even glance his way, her eyes never leaving Alistair as he and Loghain began to circle one another. "I know. But if it looks like he's truly in danger, you'd better not try to stop me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Aedan answered sincerely. He'd learned his lesson last time; it would take a far braver man than him to get in the path of an enraged Ayla. He glanced at Wynne over his shoulder; the mage nodded in answer to his unspoken question. Should Ayla lose her temper, Wynne knew what to do just as well as Morrigan did. He turned back to the fight, watching his brother, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

He didn't see which of them struck first, but suddenly there was the clash of steel-on-steel, and the fight was on. Both men were equally effective at shieldwork; nearly every blow of Alistair's was blocked by Loghain's shield, and vice versa. They were nearly matched in weight and size, as well, making it more difficult for either of them to knock the other off balance. It was Alistair who managed it first, though.

Loghain was just a touch slow in recovering from the last swing he'd sent Alistair's way, and Alistair was quick to take advantage, moving even faster than Aedan would have expected. He slammed into Loghain's side with his shield, catching him low and heaving his weight up, sending the older man tumbling to the ground.

Loghain, however, was quick to recover, and though Alistair swung down hard, trying to catch him down on the ground, the general moved just barely out of the way of the swing. Rather than getting up, however, Loghain slammed his sword up before Alistair had moved back, sliding it home in a gap in Alistair's plate armor. Alistair grunted in surprise, freezing for a second, and Aedan heard Ayla gasp in horror. He chanced a quick glance at her; she was tense, her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, but they weren't yellow, so he quickly turned his attention back to the fight.

Before anyone else had time to react, even Loghain, Alistair had already moved; he'd twisted with the sword still in him, striking Loghain's hand with his shield at the same time, causing the general to lose his grip on the sword. Alistair skipped back a few steps, yanking Loghain's sword out and tossing it at the other man.

The general sneered as he quickly regained his feet and advanced on Alistair, clearly expecting him to be weakened and slow from the blood dribbling down his armor. And indeed, it appeared as though he was; Aedan watched, holding his breath, as his brother's moves became slow and sluggish in response to Loghain's swings.

It was just as the general was smirking, as though he saw victory on hand when Alistair stumbled, that everything changed. Suddenly, Alistair's shield slammed up like a striking snake, catching Loghain just under his chin, and the general fell back a few paces, dazed. And Alistair was suddenly almost twice as fast as he had been before, moving like a whirlwind, raining blows down on the now dazed and stumbling Loghain.

Aedan grinned with pride; even he hadn't expected Alistair to _force_ Loghain to underestimate him, allowing the older man to grow arrogant before suddenly attacking with renewed force. A few more hard blows and slashes were all it took before Loghain was on his knees in front of Alistair, a sword point at his throat. _Good for you, Alistair. Get your vengeance, now._

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Fighting Loghain was difficult, but then, Alistair had expected it to be. The man wasn't a renowned Fereldan hero for nothing. It was rare that he fought someone with exactly the same style, as well, so it had taken him a few moments to truly get Loghain's measure. And, he admitted, he hadn't expected that attack from the ground; it was the first time anybody had managed to stab him from that position. But it had given him the opportunity he'd been hoping for.

He could see in Loghain's eyes that he was expecting that blow to be the end of it, and had he been fighting anybody but a Warden, and an enraged Warden at that, it probably would have been. But Alistair's adrenaline was so high and his ability to fight while wounded so ingrained, along with his Warden stamina and strength, that he'd barely felt the blow. The look in Loghain's eyes, however, had given him an idea. He'd deliberately played the wound up, making it look as though he couldn't fight effectively, and waited for his chance.

Loghain gave it to him, leaving himself wide open for a split second when Alistair faked a stumble, and he launched into action, striking up with his shield, pouring all of his rage at the loss of the Wardens behind the blow. When Loghain reeled back, dazed, Alistair gave him no time to recover. He attacked mercilessly, giving full rein to his anger, his grief, his burning desire to see the general pay for his betrayal. It only took a few more blows before he had Loghain down on his knees, Alistair's sword at his throat.

Alistair halted for a moment, wanting to make sure no one was going to stop him, and also a little curious as to what Loghain might have to say for himself now. The general eyed him for a moment, dull acceptance in his gaze along with a touch of confusion. "How could you move so fast with a wound like that?"

Alistair shook his head. "If you'd ever bothered to learn anything about Wardens, instead of assuming you knew it all, you'd know the answer to that."

Loghain merely nodded in response, before saying, "So, there is something of Maric in you after all. Good."

"Forget Maric," Alistair snarled, annoyed. This had nothing to do with the father he'd never known, and everything to do with the only father he _had_ known. "This is for Duncan, and for the rest of the Wardens."

Since no one had protested, or told him to stop, Alistair swung the sword, delivering the finishing blow with all his rage behind it. All he could see at that moment was Loghain turning away from the battlefield, leaving all of the Wardens to die, and so it felt like justice when his swing took Loghain's head clean off, sending it arcing through the air before his body hit the ground.

It felt less like justice, though, when he turned and Anora ran past him to her father's body, tears streaking down her face. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty in the face of her grief; Loghain had been her father, after all. He wiped his sword off with a cloth as he walked slowly back to the others. He could see, now, how easy it could be to lose oneself to vengeance, and promised himself he wouldn't do it again; he didn't like how it felt afterwards.

"Don't feel bad," Aedan told him softly as he reached the others. "It had to be done, and Anora had agreed that he needed to pay for his crimes beforehand."

Before Alistair could reply to that, Ayla came over to him, standing directly in front of him. He smiled faintly down at her, relieved that she'd kept her promise to him to not lose her temper and control here in the Landsmeet. He'd been worried that she would accidentally shift and put herself in danger when everyone found out what she could do, and so he'd made her swear not to come unless she was sure she could keep her cool. But she had, even though he'd been injured, and it was more than he'd hoped for. He was surprised, though, when she didn't return his smile, instead scowling at him before she suddenly slapped him. Not hard, but just enough to sting.

"What was that for?" he protested, holding his cheek where the slap had hit and looking down at her in shock.

"For pretending you were hurt worse than you were and making me worry that you would lose!" she snapped at him, and he could see the worry lurking just under the fury burning in her gaze. "Do you have any idea how hard that was for me to watch and _not_ lose control?"

He had heard her alarmed gasp; it was one of the things that had spurred him on to fight harder, in fact. "I'm sorry, love," he said softly. "It was the best way I could see to win the fight. I didn't do it to worry you."

She sighed, shaking her head, the flash of temper gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "I know." She pulled him down to her level and kissed him gently, first on the lips and then on his stinging cheek. "Now let Wynne heal you before it does become a problem."

He nodded and went past her to where Wynne was waiting; she cast the spell as soon as he reached her, laying her hand over the bleeding gap in his armor. He could feel the warmth spreading through him, pulling the wound together and dissipating the pain as she frowned at him. "That was remarkably reckless, Alistair. You are lucky that it worked."

"Yes, I know," he replied, wondering how many more people were going to scold him. Fortunately, Wynne didn't say anything further, merely finishing her healing as Leliana and Zevran returned from the balconies where they'd positioned themselves to make sure none of Loghain's soldiers tried to interfere.

By the time Alistair's wound was fully healed, soldiers had borne Loghain's body away and Anora had regained her composure, walking back over to Aedan at the same time as Arl Eamon reached them from the balcony.

"So it is decided," the Arl declared as he stopped in front of them, glancing between Alistair and Anora. "Alistair will take his father's throne."

Alistair glanced briefly at Aedan, who nodded. Now was the time to tell the Arl what they'd truly planned. "No, my lord, I'm sorry," Alistair said quietly, causing Arl Eamon's gaze to snap to him. "I'm afraid that's not what we decided."

"He refuses the throne," Anora said quickly, before the Arl could reply to him. "Everyone here has heard him. I think it's clear then, that he abdicates in favour of me."

Arl Eamon scowled at her. "I hardly think you're the appropriate person to mediate this, Anora. Warden Cousland, will you help us?" he asked, turning to Aedan.

Aedan nodded. "Yes, I can settle this." He and Anora briefly exchanged glances as the Arl asked,"As the arbiter of this dispute, what is your decision? Who will lead Ferelden?"

Aedan turned to look at the crowd that was now gathering around all of them, raising his voice as he declared, "Anora will lead Ferelden, with myself at her side as her husband."

There were shocked gasps and murmurs ran through the crowd like wildfire as Anora stepped to Aedan's side, addressing the nobles as she gestured to Aedan. "My husband, the king-consort, the general of my armies, and the hero who will save Ferelden from this Blight. My first act as queen must be to insist on receiving Alistair's oath, before all the Landsmeet, to relinquish all claim to the throne for himself and his heirs."

"Oh, I never wanted it," Alistair blurted out, then realizing how informal that sounded, amended, "I mean . . .yes. Of course. Happily, in fact."

"And now, lords and ladies of Ferelden. There is still a Blight to defeat and armies to gather, and I appoint Aedan Cousland to lead us in both," Anora stated, her voice strong and sure as she laid a hand on Aedan's shoulder. "We will not allow this land to be further threatened by the archdemon. Gather your forces and await the command of the Wardens. On the morrow, we shall begin our struggle against the greatest threat Ferelden has ever faced. And we shall triumph over it, for we are Fereldan!"

The room filled with cheers and shouts as the other nobles added their agreement; Alistair caught Arl Eamon's eye, seeing the disappointment and anger lurking in his gaze before Eamon swept from the room. He sighed. He hoped that the Arl could forgive him one day for deceiving him, but as Ayla slipped to his side, giving him an encouraging smile, he knew he could not have done anything differently. He was free at last from the burden of his birth, and now the Blight was the only obstacle left between him and the future, the life, he wanted. He slid an arm around Ayla's waist, squeezing her lightly, determined that they would get through it together as they had everything else so far.


	53. The Truth of the Wardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party returns to the Arl's estate to find out he has already left for Redcliffe, prompting them to follow to finally face the horde. Upon their arrival at Redcliffe, they find it overrun with darkspawn, and discover that Riordan has gotten there ahead of them. Riordan informs them that the horde is actually heading to Denerim, and the archdemon has shown itself. The party resolves to go after the horde the next day. Riordan then tells Alistair and Aedan the truth of the Wardens and how they defeat the archdemon. Ayla overhears the conversation and is upset, leading to a confrontation between her and Alistair; Morrigan appears, stating she has a plan. Morrigan discusses the ritual with Aedan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter for everyone! The next one should hopefully be posted within the next couple of weeks, so keep an eye out. Hope you like it!

Chapter 52: The Truth of the Wardens

Once he had finished speaking with all of the other nobles and thanking them for their support, Aedan led the others back to Arl Eamon's estate. He couldn't help but wonder if they would still be welcome when they returned, given the way he'd tricked the Arl and countered all his plans behind his back. Eamon had left the Landsmeet rather abruptly, and had looked both angry and disappointed. Still, they didn't really have anywhere else to go at the moment, so he could think of nothing else to do but try.

He exchanged a brief glance with Alistair as they finally spotted the estate in the distance, noticing the anxiety on his fellow Warden's face, and gave him a firm nod in an attempt to bolster his spirits. Surely Eamon wouldn't be so ungrateful for all they'd done before to refuse them entry, or so rude as to attempt to kick out their other companions while they were gone. He was relieved to find himself right when the two guards at the gate merely waved them in as usual, but was surprised to see how muddy and trampled the courtyard looked when they entered.

He frowned as they approached the double doors to find only one guard there, instead of the two that were usually stationed there. "Has the Arl reduced the number of guards at the door?" he asked the man, stopping briefly in front of him.

"Haven't you heard, my lord?" the guard asked, looking surprised. "His Grace has left already for Redcliffe, and taken most of the other knights with him. In quite a hurry, he was. Didn't bid goodbye to any of his guests and took very few servants with him. He's travelling light and fast; must be eager to get home to his wife and son."

"Yes, I suppose he must be," Aedan answered noncommittally. Inside, however, he was reeling with shock as he made his way into the estate, the others following. Of all the things he'd expected, it certainly hadn't been that Eamon would pack up and leave before they even had a chance to get back. He only hoped the Arl had a chance to get over his wounded pride and disappointment during the long trek back to Redcliffe.

"What are we going to do?" Alistair muttered in a low tone once they were all inside the doors, halting briefly in the hallway.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I don't particularly feel up to leaving right now," Aedan replied after a moment's thought. "We'd only have a few hours of travel left today anyway. I'd rather stay here tonight and set off in the morning. However Eamon feels about it, we have no choice but to go and meet up with him in Redcliffe. The horde is still in the south of Ferelden anyway. But . . . if you'd rather leave right now, we can."

Alistair seemed to consider it briefly for a moment before glancing at Ayla and then turning back to Aedan, shaking his head. "No, I agree it's best we stay here tonight. It's obvious the Arl would rather we not travel with him right now. I'll talk to him once we're back in Redcliffe. And we should pick up more supplies and things before we leave, anyway."

"Right." Aedan nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking. I'll let Morrigan and the others know tonight. We can meet here in the morning, and get our supplies in the marketplace before we leave. I'll see you all in the morning, then?"

Alistair and the others all nodded in agreement before everyone split up and headed to their rooms. Aedan had only just gotten changed into a tunic and breeches when a maid came knocking at his door, telling him the queen had returned and was asking for him.

He promptly headed to Anora's room, feeling a little anxious as he went. Had she changed her mind in spite of what she'd said at the Landsmeet? She'd seen her father die before her very eyes, only a few feet away, in fact. That couldn't have been easy, and it wasn't exactly the way he'd planned things to go, but Loghain had pushed his hand by refusing to back down. And though he regretted that Anora had been forced to see it, he didn't know what else he could have done.

So he knocked on the door more than a little nervously, and was relieved that Anora's voice sounded quite normal when she called for him to enter. When he came in, he saw that she had changed and cleaned up as well; there was no sign of the blood that she'd been splattered with at the Landsmeet.

He bowed to her, saying carefully, "I heard you wished to see me, Anora?"

She nodded, slowly, her face looking carefully blank as she met his gaze. She hesitated for a long moment before she finally spoke. "So it's done. My father is dead. I never thought he would go so far. I never thought it would end like it did. Such a waste." Her voice nearly broke at the end, and Aedan felt a renewed wave of guilt wash over him.

He went to her, reaching to take her hands in his, fully expecting her to refuse, but she didn't. She allowed him to close his hands over hers and squeeze gently. "I'm sorry, Anora. I didn't know that he would refuse to back down, that he would push for a duel. I had thought perhaps to give you a chance to say a proper goodbye, but . . ." He trailed off before adding in a low voice, "I wish it could have been otherwise."

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she replied, a trifle sharply, "It could have been." She blinked and shook her head, as if regretting what she'd said, before she went on in a more gentle tone, "But what is done is done. My father had no illusions about the consequences of his actions, and neither do I. At least I was somewhat prepared for what happened."

Knowing she would appreciate a change in subject before she broke down, he squeezed her hands once more before releasing them and asking, "What will you do now? Eamon has left already for Redcliffe, and my companions and I plan to head there tomorrow."

"That is what I had intended, as well. I have a few . . . arrangements I must take care of first, and then I will be heading there as soon as I am able." She wiped briefly at her eyes, clearing her throat before continuing, "The Arl had told me that most of our armies would be gathering there, and I believe it best if I am there as well. Now that Ferelden is finally united, it is time for us to face the Blight. Once that is done, we will be able to discuss our plans for Ferelden."

"Indeed. There will be much for us to do." He was relieved at her use of the word 'our' – it meant she had not changed her mind after all. He bowed to her once more. "Then I will wish you safe travels, Anora, and I will see you when you arrive."

"Yes, thank you." She smiled at him, and though there was still a bit of sadness in the smile, it was genuine, and it gave him hope that things between them hadn't been damaged beyond repair. _Now if only the Blight will go as well as the Landsmeet has_ , he thought as he nodded to her before leaving the room, his mind already busy going over all the plans he still had to make.

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Though they had travelled as fast as they could upon leaving Denerim, making the trip to Redcliffe in a little over two weeks instead of the three it had taken before, Alistair and the others had never managed to catch up with Arl Eamon on the way. Probably, Alistair admitted to himself, it was because the Arl hadn't wanted them to. He could only hope that the Arl would be receptive to what he had to say once they were finally able to talk to him.

All during their journey back, he'd had increasing difficulty sensing where the darkspawn were; they seemed to be all over the place, and it was as though something was interfering with his ability to identify their locations, how many of them were there, and indeed even precisely where the bulk of the horde was. So he shouldn't really have been surprised when they had arrived at Redcliffe village to find it overrun with darkspawn, and yet he had been anyway.

Fortunately all the villagers but one had retreated to the safety of the castle before the arrival of the darkspawn, and they had succeeded in saving him before they'd fought their way through the village. There had been a few dozen darkspawn roaming through the houses, but none of them had been terribly difficult to defeat.

That had not been the case, however, with the darkspawn they had fought in the courtyard of the castle. Several knights had already fallen defending the castle by the time they'd arrived, and there had only been about half a dozen knights remaining, battling desperately on the stairs. The first wave of darkspawn their party had defeated with relative ease, but an ogre that was much larger and tougher than most of the other ones they'd faced had arrived with the second wave of darkspawn.

By the time that battle was done, both Leliana and Oghren had been seriously wounded; Leliana by a cart the ogre had thrown at them, and Oghren by a well-placed kick from the ogre while he'd been harrying its legs. Fortunately, the wounds had not been beyond Morrigan and Wynne's ability to heal, and though Alistair and the others had been injured as well, they were largely minor wounds easily taken care of by healing potions.

One of the knights ran up to them just as they had finished healing their wounds, crying, "My lord! You're here! Thank goodness!"

"Did the darkspawn get into the castle?" Aedan demanded, whirling on him, and Alistair held his breath, praying that the Arl and the others were safe.

"Just these ones here in the courtyard, my lord," the knight explained hastily, causing Alistair to sigh in relief as the man continued, "We were able to close the gates before they got into the castle itself, and you just took care of the last of them. I was told to watch for your arrival, Wardens. Your comrade, Riordan, arrived just ahead of the darkspawn attack. He has urgent news for you!"

"Riordan?" Aedan sounded shocked, and Alistair frowned as he remembered what Aedan had told him about Riordan travelling to Ostagar looking for the archdemon. What news could have brought him here instead? "What's he doing here?" Aedan echoed his thoughts to the knight.

The man shook his head. "I don't rightly know. Things happened so fast, I only know he was scouting in the south before he arrived. I shall take you to the hall right away, my lord. They'll be waiting for you there."

"Please do." Aedan turned back to their party. "Is everyone all right now?"

Everyone nodded in response; Alistair couldn't help his smile of relief when Ayla came up next to him, looping her arm through his. He'd not been able to keep much of an eye on her during the battle, and he'd been terrified the whole time that something would go wrong. Yet here she was, alive and well, and it sounded as though everyone in the castle was, as well, which was all he could hope for.

They followed Aedan and the knight up the stairs, through the front doors and into the main hall, to find the Arl and Teagan awaiting them along with Riordan.

Riordan smiled at them as he spotted them entering before they halted a few feet away. "It is a relief to see you unharmed, Brothers. The darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe were relatively few in number, I'm afraid. It was assumed the horde was marching in this direction . . . but that is not true."

Alistair frowned, exchanging a grim look with Aedan. It was true they'd both had trouble getting a proper read on the darkspawn, yet it had still seemed that the bulk of them where were they'd always been; south of Redcliffe, steadily marching towards it. Where could they possibly be going instead?

As if in answer to their unspoken question, Arl Eamon said, "Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading towards Denerim. And, it would seem, they have at least two days' head start on us, were we to try and catch them before they reach the capital."

"What? Are we sure about that?" Alistair demanded, shocked, his gaze snapping to Riordan. How could he have misread the horde so badly? "If that's true . . . we'll never make it there in time."

Riordan nodded. "I ventured close enough to 'listen in', as it were. I am quite certain."

Aedan frowned. "But . . . it seemed like they were headed here. How could we have been so wrong?"

Riordan cast a quick glance at Eamon and Teagan, and Alistair realized that they probably shouldn't talk too much of their ability to read the location of the horde. "The darkspawn line is wide, and many of them roam away from the main horde," Riordan answered carefully, staring meaningfully at both himself and Aedan. "Until now, most of them have been spotted here in the west. Additionally, the archdemon is quite good at . . . . confusing the issue, as it were."

 _So the archdemon can cloud our ability to sense the horde. Isn't that just wonderful?_ Alistair thought. He'd become rather reliant on his ability to know where the darkspawn were at all times; he wasn't sure how to deal with the fact that he could no longer trust his senses. Not wanting to worry Ayla or the others, however, he strived to make his tone flippant as he replied, "Not to mention that we've been too busy killing each other to pay much attention to some silly old darkspawn horde."

"There is, I'm afraid, one other piece of news that is of even greater concern," Riordan added reluctantly. "The archdemon has chosen to finally show itself. The dragon is at the head of the horde."

"Maker preserve us!" Teagan exclaimed, looking panicked.

"But if they have two days' lead on us, we can't reach Denerim in time, can we?" Alistair demanded, staring at Riordan, hoping the senior Warden would have more answers somehow, but he merely shook his head grimly. _All those people . . ._

"We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately with what we have. Denerim must be defended at all costs," Arl Eamon stated.

"Even with a forced march, is it possible for us to reach the city in time?" Aedan asked, though he sounded no more hopeful than Alistair was.

"Perhaps not, but what is important is that we know where the archdemon will be." Riordan looked back and forth between Alistair and Aedan, saying firmly, "If we do not defeat the archdemon, it will not matter if Denerim is saved or the horde defeated. And only the Grey Wardens can defeat the archdemon. That is why we must go."

Alistair nodded, though he couldn't help the rising sense of worry he felt at the thought of facing the archdemon as he pulled Ayla just a bit closer, squeezing her hand as he said, "Then we march, and hope the army we've collected here gives us the chance we need. Arl Eamon, how long before the army can set out?"

The Arl gave him a small smile of approval, and even in the midst of everything, Alistair still felt relief at the thought that Eamon had perhaps forgiven him, as he replied, "By daybreak."

"Then let's get them ready. I won't let all those people die without giving them a chance." No, it was his duty as a Warden to keep them safe from the darkspawn, and so he would do his best to try, Alistair decided, even if it meant facing the archdemon. Ayla smiled up at him with such pride that he felt himself flushing in response even as his heart warmed at her look.

Aedan gave him a nod of approval as well, turning to the Arl. "Then we'd better get going. This is what we've been working for; let's get it done."

"I will give the orders at once," Eamon declared, "and will notify you the moment we are ready to march."

Alistair smiled at him gratefully. "That would be appreciated."

"Aedan, Alistair, could the two of you meet me before you retire?" Riordan requested, his tone and expression solemn. "We have Grey Warden business to discuss."

"Yes, of course," Aedan agreed, even as he was glancing at Alistair, frowning in question. Alistair shrugged in reply; he had no idea what the senior Warden wanted to talk about, but he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't good.

"I will have someone show you to your rooms." Arl Eamon gestured to one of the servants who'd entered from a side door. "I suggest you all get some rest, while you can. We will need it."

They followed the servant up to the second floor, and were shown to the rooms they'd used before. As the others headed off to their own rooms, Alistair stopped with Ayla in the door to hers. "I'll go talk to Riordan right now," he told her softly, "and then I'll come join you. It shouldn't take too long."

"You don't know what it's about, do you?" There was a trace of worry in her eyes, and he wished he could make it disappear, but he could only shake his head in answer.

"Sorry, love, I don't. But," he added lightly, "it's probably just a strategy for fighting the archdemon. You know, whatever secret method the Wardens use. I'll be back as soon as I can, since we will actually have some time alone together tonight."

She smiled, kissing him gently, though he saw that the worry had not left her eyes. "Then I will be waiting here for you."

He kissed her once more before turning to leave, heading towards the door that the servant had declared was Riordan's. Aedan was waiting for him outside of it. "Are you ready for this?" Aedan asked quietly, his face expressionless, though Alistair could see the tension in his shoulders.

"No," Alistair said honestly, "but let's get it over with anyway."

Aedan nodded, pushing the door open, and the two of them entered the room, shutting the door behind them. Riordan had been sitting in one of the chairs, but he stood up as they entered, meeting them halfway across the room. "You are both here. Good." The senior Warden hesitated for a moment before he went on, "You are new to the Grey Wardens, and you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so."

"You mean there's more to it than just, say, chopping off its head?" When Riordan merely raised his eyebrows in response to the joke, Alistair sighed and shook his head. "No, Duncan never told me any details."

"So it is true. Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed . . ." Riordan trailed off, a reluctant look passing across his face before he finally said, "Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?"

"Well, yes, of course we did," Aedan replied, frowning. "I thought it likely had something to do with the taint and our ability to sense them."

Riordan nodded, pacing back and forth as he explained, "The taint, yes, is exactly what it involves. The archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough. The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal. But if the archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden . . . its essence travels into the Grey Warden, instead."

"So . . . what then happens to that Grey Warden?" Aedan asked slowly, reluctantly, looking as though he didn't want to know the answer any more than Alistair did.

Riordan's voice was heavy with his reply, his gaze serious as it met theirs. "A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon is destroyed . . . and so is the Grey Warden."

Alistair could only feel a growing sense of horror and despair as he stared at the senior Warden. "Meaning . . . the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon . . . _dies_?" _Will this be the way that I lose my future? Will I break my promise to her, after all?_

"Yes. Without the archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way." Riordan said the words with a clipped finality, even as he looked pained at having to deliver them.

"Is there no other way? Must a Grey Warden die?" Aedan's voice held all the desperation that Alistair himself felt; he knew his fellow Warden had no more desire to die in this battle than he did, yet it seemed that one of them might not have a choice.

Riordan shook his head slowly. "As far as we know, the transfer of the archdemon's essence is automatic. If one of us is not present when the killing blow is made, it is all for nothing. There is no other way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he finished quietly.

"So it's up to the three of us to make sure that the archdemon is defeated, then," Aedan said, his face having now gone carefully blank. Alistair wondered what he was thinking; Aedan always had a plan, but if his plan was to somehow sacrifice himself, there was no way Alistair could allow that. Ferelden needed his brother too much.

"In Blights past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow," Riordan informed them. "If possible, the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fail, the deed falls on one of you."

He met their gazes, as though to gauge their resolve, and seemingly satisfied with what he saw, continued, "The Blight must be stopped now or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that. But enough," Riordan said suddenly, sounding weary as he waved his hand at them. "There will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms."

"We will see you once the army is ready to march, then," Alistair replied, feeling heartsick. Were his choices really limited to hoping that Riordan would be the one to take the final blow, or making sure that he got to do it himself before Aedan could? "I guess this ends soon, one way or another."

"That it does, my friend. That it does," Riordan said as the two of them turned and left the room.

Aedan seemed to be about to say something as Alistair followed him out into the hall, closing the door behind him, but he stopped dead instead, staring at the two people just outside the door. Alistair froze when he spotted them, as well; it was Zevran, with a clearly upset Ayla in his arms.

"Ayla?!" he exclaimed, horrified. He'd hoped to have time to break the news to her gently, but it seemed she already knew. "What are you doing out here?!"

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She shouldn't be doing this, Ayla knew as she kept her ear pressed to the door of Riordan's room. She shouldn't be eavesdropping, especially when Alistair would tell her later what had occurred. But she'd been heading down to the kitchens to get some food for them both when she'd passed by and overheard Riordan say the words "you may not have been told how an archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so." Her curiosity piqued, she'd been unable to prevent herself from stopping and listening in to the rest.

Zevran had come by a few seconds later, and seeing her there listening in, he'd grinned, shaken his head at her, and proceeded to press his ear to the door next to her. She hadn't bothered to scold him, not wanting to miss anything that was said, so she'd simply ignored him, continuing to listen with a growing sense of dread as Riordan described the truth of the Wardens and how they defeated an archdemon.

When she heard Alistair say, "Meaning . . . the Grey Warden who kills the archdemon . . . _dies_?" it hit her like a blow to the chest from a shield. She could only gasp in horror, frozen as she kept listening, struggling to breathe around her panicked fear for him.

She'd known that the final battle with the archdemon would be dangerous for Alistair, for all of them, really. But she had thought it would be an ordinary danger of battle, one that could be avoided if they were all only fast enough or strong enough. Or something that she could save him from, even if she had to take the blow herself. But she wasn't a Warden; she couldn't save him from this, from this sure and certain death if he was the one to finish the archdemon off. And she knew Alistair well enough to know that if it had to be him, he wouldn't be cowardly or selfish enough to shy away from it, and that knowledge hurt her more than anything she'd ever felt.

By the time Aedan said, "So it's up to the three of us to make sure that the archdemon is defeated, then," she couldn't listen to any more of it, unable to take it any longer. She stumbled backwards away from the door, breathing deeply, struggling not to give in to the tears that were clogging her throat and burning at her eyes. She felt Zevran's arms go hesitantly around her after a moment as she stood there in the hallway, and she turned blindly into his chest, trying to seek whatever small measure of comfort she could find.

"I am so sorry, my dear," he said quietly above her head as he rubbed soothing circles over her back. "I wish there was something I could do."

"This is exactly why I didn't want to fall in love with him, Zev," she choked out. "But I couldn't help it, even though I _knew_ something like this would happen, and that it would be more painful than – than anything I'd ever . . ." she trailed off, gulping, knowing she would give in and cry if she kept talking about it.

"I know, Ayla, I know," he murmured, squeezing her gently.

They remained together quietly like that for a minute more, as Zevran attempted to soothe her and she tried her best not to break down. But then she heard the door open behind her, and Alistair's voice exclaim, "Ayla?! What are you doing out here?!"

No, she couldn't deal with this, not now, she thought. But before she'd fully realized what she was doing, she had broken away from Zevran and whirled to face Alistair, crying out, "I heard what happens when you face the archdemon! Alistair, I – you – I thought you said I was never going to lose you!"

She knew even as she said it that it was wildly unfair to bring that impulsive promise of his up. She'd never meant to hold him to it, had known he was only saying it to make both of them feel better, that he'd been praying it would come true. But she was hurting badly, and so she lashed out unthinkingly at the source of her pain. When he flinched as if she'd struck him, though, it only made her feel that much worse.

"Ayla, I'm so sorry," he said at last, his voice low and broken. "I – please let me explain –" He started to close the distance between them, reaching out for her.

 _No_. If he touched her right now, she really would cry, and she might not ever be able to stop. "I – I can't deal with this right now," she managed, before she turned and fled down the hallway.

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"You had better fix this, my friend," Zevran said coldly, as he also turned to leave, tossing over his shoulder, "I do not wish to see her like this."

"You think I do?!" Alistair snapped after him, filled with frustration and heartbroken despair. He'd been so close to having the future he wanted with her. Maker, he even had the ring for her in his pack that Aedan had helped him pick out the morning before they'd left Denerim, and now, he might never even have the chance to give it to her. And the absolute last thing in the world he wanted was to cause her pain, and yet here he was, doing just that simply because he was a Warden, and this was a Blight. Just how in the Maker's name _could_ he fix this?

He felt Aedan's hand land on his shoulder, squeezing as he said, "Alistair, if Riordan fails, I can –"

"No," Alistair interrupted him, shaking his head. "I can't ask that of you, not when you're going to be King and Ferelden needs you."

"Alistair –"

"Just what have you done, fool Templar?" Morrigan snarled, interrupting Aedan as she stormed down the hall, her eyes lit with fury. "Do you care to explain what you have done to upset Ayla so that she would flee outside, refusing to speak with me?!"

Alistair didn't even bother to defend himself as she stopped in front of him, hands planted on her hips. It was true enough that he'd been the one to upset Ayla, after all. Aedan, however, came to his rescue, stepping forward and saying softly to Morrigan, "He didn't do anything. Ayla overheard how Wardens defeat the archdemon and . . ." he trailed off, as if he'd suddenly realized explaining everything might also upset Morrigan.

But Morrigan did not appear surprised or confused at Aedan's lack of explanation, merely saying, "Ah, I see." Alistair stared at her in growing suspicion, wondering if she had somehow known all along what he and Aedan had not. This suspicion was only confirmed when she continued, "'Tis fortunate, then, that I have a way out for you both, a plan to keep you both alive. The loop in your hole."

Aedan was gaping at her in clear shock, even as Alistair demanded, "Just what is this plan? And how did you know about this?"

Morrigan shrugged carelessly. "I know a great many things. How I know is not quite as important as what I am offering the both of you, however. And I only require Aedan's assistance for this plan, in any event. I suggest you go to Ayla and explain that she has nothing to worry about, that you will not die when facing the archdemon. Or will you insist upon looking a gift horse in the mouth, and break my sister's heart while doing so?"

Alistair stared at her, blinking in surprise. He'd never been able to fully trust her, and the fact that she'd known about this and had a plan in place for it did nothing to help that. But it _was_ very clear how much she cared about both Ayla and Aedan, and she was right; was he really going to reject this plan, whatever it was, when doing so would break Ayla's heart? When following along with it would allow him to remain alive and with the woman he loved? He looked to Aedan, silently asking his opinion.

Aedan nodded. "Go. Tell her we're both going to live through the battle. I'll find out the details from Morrigan and make sure that we all get through this."

"Okay," Alistair said after a long moment. He might not trust the witch, but he trusted Aedan completely. He knew his fellow Warden would not go ahead with this plan if it was too dangerous or just . . . not _right_. And if it turned out later that Aedan had rejected the plan, he would at least have the opportunity to break it to Ayla more gently. But, he realized as he turned and hurried down the hall after Ayla, he was just selfish enough to take any chance at salvation he was offered, even if it did come from Morrigan.

He found her just outside the main doors, sitting on the parapet above the courtyard, her back to the balcony and to him. "Ayla," he said softly, reaching for her, but she slid just out of his grasp as soon as she heard his voice.

"Don't, Alistair," she whispered, not even turning to look at him. "Please. I just can't, not right now."

"Morrigan has a plan," he blurted out desperately, willing her to look at him, to stop hurting him like this. That finally got her attention, though; she turned at last to face him, sliding off the wall, though her expression remained carefully guarded and she stayed just out of his reach.

"What sort of plan?" she asked warily.

He shook his head. "She didn't tell me any details, but she says she has a way out for both Aedan and I. A – a loophole, a way to keep us both alive when we defeat the archdemon. I'm guessing it's some sort of spell, but she says she only needs Aedan's help for it. Anyway . . . it means you won't lose me."

She was wide-eyed with surprise by the time he'd finished, her hand over her mouth, and then suddenly, she was racing to him. He pulled her up into his arms desperately as she buried her face in his neck, the only part of him not currently covered in his armor, and he clung to her as tightly as he dared. "Goddess, Alistair, I was so terrified and it was hurting me so much . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled against his neck, wrapping her arms around him tighter.

"Don't be," he told her, his heart singing with relief. "Maker, it was killing me, but I didn't know how I could make it better. But if Morrigan really has a plan, then I'm going to do everything I can to come out of this alive. For you. For _us_."

She leaned back to look up at him, her expression serious as she said, "You'd better. Because it's either we make it out of this together, or not at all, you understand?"

Alistair blinked, nodding slowly, even as he wondered if she really meant what he thought she did. Well, Zevran had promised him he wouldn't let Ayla do anything drastic if he died, and he felt sure the elf would keep that promise if he had to. He'd just have to do his best to make sure it wasn't necessary. "Let's go back to your room," he murmured against her lips before he kissed her slowly. "I want to spend every minute I can with you tonight before we leave. It's the last chance we'll have to be alone before . . ."

She kissed him hard, cutting off the end of his sentence, before she pulled away and nodded. "Let's go." He set her down, following her back inside as he sent a silent prayer to the Maker, to her Goddess, to anyone who would listen, to let this battle with the archdemon work out.

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"So, Morrigan, you say you have a plan to keep us both alive?" Aedan asked after they had returned to his room, the door closed behind them. To say he was badly shaken would be an understatement; first finding out that the only way to kill the archdemon was for a Warden to die, then realizing that Alistair was determined to sacrifice himself if Riordan failed, only to find out that Morrigan already knew all about this and had a plan to get them out of it? His emotions had run the gamut over the last few moments, and right now, he wasn't sure just what he was feeling. Relief, maybe, that neither he nor Alistair would have to die? Anger that Morrigan had known and hadn't told him? He couldn't be certain.

Morrigan nodded; he could see that she was nervous as she crossed to the fireplace and turned to face him, wringing her hands just a little bit, but enough for him to notice. "Yes, I have a way out. I . . . knew that a Grey Warden had to be sacrificed when the archdemon dies, and I know that sacrifice could be you. Or the love of my sister. But this does not need to be so."

"So how exactly did you know about this before I did?" he demanded, realizing by the edge in his tone that maybe he _was_ angry right now. "You've obviously known long enough to come up with a plan. You didn't just find out in the hallway. How could you not tell me?"

She looked away for a moment, as though to avoid the heat in his gaze, before she finally answered, "Yes, I have known for quite some time; Flemeth informed me before I went with you. I did not tell you because initially I thought you already knew; until recently, that is, and by then . . . I was reluctant to explain the reason why I accompanied you, by bringing it up. But. . . I had thought Duncan would have told Alistair, and he would have told you . . . " She shrugged, looking almost ashamed, he thought, startled, as she continued with a slight plea in her tone, "But I'm offering you a way out. A way out for both you and Alistair, that there need be no sacrifice."

If she had known all along . . . if this plan was the reason she had accompanied them on this journey . . . then it had to have come from Flemeth, he mused. Which meant he wasn't entirely sure it would be the right thing to do, and yet did he really want to die? Did he really want Alistair to die? There was always the hope, of course, that Riordan would succeed, but given the way their luck had been, Aedan wasn't willing to pin their lives on that chance. So he asked, a trifle reluctantly, "What is this way out? Why did you come with us?"

"'Tis a ritual . . . performed before battle, in the dark of night," Morrigan explained slowly.

 _A ritual, of course it was_. "Just what sort of ritual is this, Morrigan?" He sincerely hoped it would be one that he could agree to.

"It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some would call it blood magic, but it is not of the sort that would cost anyone their lives. And think, after all, of how the Wardens are created. Is that not a sort of blood magic?" She was watching him steadily, gauging his reaction, as if expecting him to explode at the mention of blood magic, but he didn't feel the need to. He could see her point about the Wardens; they drank magically enhanced blood to gain their abilities, after all. And most of his objections to blood magic stemmed from the fact that it was normally harmful. But if this would not cost anyone their lives, but instead save lives, wouldn't it be worth it?

On the other hand, he was fairly certain this ritual came from Flemeth, and that was the part he wasn't sure about, so he had to know, "And where exactly did you get this ritual, Morrigan? Did your mother give it to you? I thought that you didn't trust her?"

She shook her head. "I do not trust her, but her plan was for me to return to her once this was done, and I do not intend to. That is why I have to leave, to remain on the move, so that she cannot find me. But yes, the ritual is hers."

"So what is this ritual about? What do you need me for?" he demanded. He wasn't a mage, after all. What use could he be in performing the ritual? Would she use his blood?

He wasn't expecting the answer that she gave him, though, as she replied, "What I propose is this: lay with me. Here, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be conceived. The child will bear the taint, and when the archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon." He must have looked horrified, for she quickly elaborated, "At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The child will not even be hurt, merely changed. The archdemon is still destroyed, with no Grey Warden dying in the process."

 _A child_. He wasn't sure how he felt about her proposal, besides shocked. He had, of course, thought about having a child together with Morrigan, before she had turned him down. But like this? As part of some ritual to save his own life? He couldn't pin down his feelings on it, and unsure how to respond, he finally blurted out, "You really want to have my child?"

"Well, it would be a necessary part of the ritual, but . . . yes." Her expression softened, and she gave him that sweet smile that he liked to think of as his alone. "I think I do want to have your child – _our_ child. To have some piece of you with me, always, after I leave, even when you cannot be there."

He smiled, feeling the warmth spread through his heart at her words, but at the same time, he couldn't help feeling a little niggling doubt in his mind. He knew she was good at seducing men, telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. Maybe she was even better at than he'd thought. So he couldn't help but pose the question to her, even as he was afraid to hear the answer. "So . . .this is the reason why you wanted to be with me? Was any of it ever _real_? Did you ever really _want_ me at all?"

She flinched as though he had yelled at her, even though he'd struggled not to lose his cool, and he suddenly remembered her asking him for a favour when he had begged her forgiveness. _I may find myself in need of your forgiveness, one day_. He felt suddenly awful for doubting her. She'd been afraid he would be angry with her when he found out about this, he realized. Maybe even afraid he would leave her over it. That was why she'd extracted that promise from him. He knew she loved him. How many times had he seen it, even when she'd been trying to hide it?

Before he could apologize for his brief moment of doubt, however, she was already replying. "It's . . . why I was sent with you by my mother. It's why she saved your lives to begin with. But . . . yes, I did want you, and was intrigued by you, from the moment I spotted you in the Wilds. And falling in love with you . . . was most certainly not part of my plan." There were tears gathering in her eyes as she went on, clearly finding it difficult to keep her voice even, "But I cannot let what we feel for one another interfere with what I must do. This is important to me. The fact that it saves your life – that it saves Alistair's life, so that Ayla might be happy – makes me all the more determined to see it done. Please do not . . . cloud the issue. The fact that you love me will make what we must do . . . easier, will it not?"

"I'm sorry, my pretty witch," he apologized, crossing the room to her, taking her hands in his and bringing them up to place a kiss on them both. "I shouldn't have doubted you . . . I just couldn't seem to stop myself from asking."

"It is all right, Aedan," she said softly, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, though they were still bright with unshed tears. "I cannot blame you for having your doubts, given the way that it looked. But . . . what is your answer?"

"I just have one more question before I can agree," he told her. One more doubt that must be laid to rest, not of her, but of the plan that she had received from Flemeth. "What about our child? Will it become . . . something else?" _What will the soul of an archdemon do to it?_ he wondered, even as he was unsure how to ask that question.

"Allow me to say that what I seek is the essence of the Old God that once was and not the dark forces that corrupted it. Some things are worth preserving in this world. I do not know entirely what will happen; not even Flemeth does. But I do not believe the child would be harmed, or become . . . evil." Her voice was sure, her gaze certain this time as it met his, and he realized that was really what his worry had been; that their child would turn into some horrifying creature of evil.

But she seemed certain that it would not, and he could see the pleading in her gaze as she continued to meet his eyes, the way she was almost begging him to say yes. And he could remember the clear anguish in Ayla's gaze, the heartbreak in his brother's tone, as they had confronted one another out in the hallway. He could make all of that better, all by simply being with Morrigan tonight as he wanted to be. And if things went differently than she expected with the child – well, they could worry about that when it came to it. He nodded firmly. "All right, I agree. If this is the way that I can save us both . . . I will do it."

A bright, dazzling smile broke over Morrigan's face. "A wise decision. Come, my love. Put the thoughts of the ritual aside and let us make this last night together one to remember."

"Oh, we will, my lovely witch," he murmured as he let her draw him over to the bed. "We will."


	54. Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan and Aedan spend their last night together undergoing the ritual; Ayla and Alistair spend their last night together discussing their plans for the future. The party arrives at the outskirts of Denerim and prepares to face the darkspawn horde and the archdemon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is heavy on the romance and the smut, so if you're not in the mood for either, maybe save this one for later!

Chapter 53: Last Night

The spell Morrigan was chanting seemed long and complicated, Aedan mused as he stripped his armor off, piece by piece. As she chanted, her fine porcelain skin began to glow with a faint bluish light, even as she removed her clothes, letting him finally glimpse her luscious curves in all their glory.

He groaned softly at the sight as he finished removing his armor; he couldn't remember ever wanting her more than he did at this moment. He stripped his cotton tunic off, and as soon as he had, she laid one cool hand on him while continuing her chant. His body began to flood with a tingling warmth, and his lust for her suddenly spiralled alarmingly high, even as he looked down at himself while he let his breeches and smallclothes drop to the ground, noticing that he was now glowing as well.

Morrigan finished her chant at last as he stepped out of his breeches, closing the distance between them so that he was nearly brushing against her. She gifted him with a slow, wicked smile. "'Tis all done, my Warden. Come now."

She laid both her hands on his chest, running them slowly down, and a strangled, inhuman sound escaped his mouth. Just the merest touch of her skin to his sent shockwaves through him, heightening his desire for her, making everything almost _too_ intense. The spell, he realized, must be designed to make things more pleasurable in case the participants were only involved in this for the sake of the ritual. He, however, had never suffered from a lack of desire for her, and he was stunned speechless for the moment, trying to manage his raging lust while she turned him and pushed him backwards onto the bed.

He manoeuvred himself back further on the bed with his elbows while she crawled towards him, her breasts swinging enticingly as she straddled him. "I take it I will be at your mercy tonight, my lovely witch," he managed hoarsely.

She looked up at him, her hands braced on his chest, her eyes a molten gold of blazing desire as she licked her lips. "I trust you do not have a problem with that?"

He merely shook his head wordlessly, and she suddenly ground her hips down onto his, her wet warmth brushing against his achingly sensitive erection. "Maker help me," he groaned, arching beneath her, his hands digging into the sheet beneath him in an effort to manage the violent need coursing through his body. The glow of the magic surrounding their bodies flared brighter as he gasped, "Please, Morrigan, I need you!"

"My Warden," she murmured, her mouth meeting his. The taste of her was like the sweetest wine, he thought dazedly, one of his hands going up to capture her head, tangling in her hair and scattering the pins that held her hair up, sending the dark mass of it tumbling down. The other hand slid over the soft skin of her back, curving over her bottom and grinding her against him once more.

He felt the soft cry she made into his mouth even as she grew wetter against him, and he could feel himself going drunk with the intoxicating pleasure, with the fiery lust swirling through his body. She pulled her mouth away from his abruptly, only to rise up over him and sink onto him, her head tipping back as she let out a low moan.

_"Morrigan_ . . ." She was so hot, so wet, so tight around him that he was consumed with her. Fire, tingling, blazing fire was racing through his limbs, and he thrust upwards even as he yanked her down hard against him, filled with a mad need, his body urging him to explode inside her.

"Oh, Aedan, my love . . ." She began moving with him, rising up and slamming down, frantic and fast, her body glowing ever brighter as they moved together. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging in as he brought her down even harder, tried to bury himself even deeper, need boiling through him.

The pleasure was so intense it was painful; he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take as they crashed together, as he watched the mesmerizing bounce of her breasts as she moved atop him. He reared up, capturing one breast in his mouth, suckling hard, nipping at her harshly, and felt her shudder, tightening around him. He pulled back, looking up at her, at the sheer ecstasy written across her face. "Oh, Maker, I love you so much, my pretty witch," he growled, need wracking him.

"As I love you, my handsome Warden," she gasped out, a keening cry escaping her as he closed his mouth over her other breast even as he yanked her fiercely down against him. She came apart suddenly, the light of the magic flaring so bright it was now blinding and white-hot, and as she tightened around him like a vice, he erupted inside her, howling out his release as he emptied deep within her.

She fell atop him as he collapsed back to the bed, feeling as though she'd completely drained him, and yet oddly, as though he wanted nothing more than for her to do it all over again. The glow of the magic was gone now after the last blinding flash. He felt too weak to do more than lay there, his arm around her waist as she lay across his chest, with no desire to move right now, or perhaps ever.

"That was . . . intense," he murmured when thought finally returned to him. "I felt . . . _everything_ . . . so much more. Did you?"

"I did indeed," she agreed softly. "Flemeth had told me the ritual would . . . heighten things, but I did not realize how much."

"It was incredible." He grinned up at her, watching the wicked light spring into her eyes in answer. He'd always enjoyed it when she used her magic on him while they made love, but that had been something else altogether. "Can you do it again?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I cannot; it took too much magic for me to able to repeat it again tonight. However, I am certain I could manage to repeat the rest eventually."

"Oh, I hope so. I'm not nearly done with you yet," he told her, running his hand lightly over the satin smoothness of her cheek. Her face softened, her eyes glowing with an entirely different warmth now, and his heart ached suddenly, fiercely. "Morrigan . . ."

"What is it?" she asked softly when he didn't continue.

_Don't leave_. That was what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be terribly unfair. She had to go, to stay on the move and stay away from Flemeth, he knew that. And even if she didn't, he had already lost the chance to have her in his life permanently. There could be no going back anymore, now that he had promised to wed Anora before the whole of the Landsmeet. So he merely said instead, "Thank you. For everything."

Her smile grew sad, as though she knew what he'd wanted to say but couldn't. "You are most welcome. I did tell you that I would keep you alive for as long as I am able to, and I will. The ritual _will_ work, and you will survive the Blight. You and Alistair both."

"I know. I trust you, and I appreciate it. All the help you've given me - us - so far, even before this, I'm truly grateful for it. All of it," he told her, pressing a light kiss to her lips, stroking his thumb over her bottom lip afterward. "And I will express my gratitude all night, if you like."

She nipped gently at his thumb. "I think I would like that, yes."

This much he could give her. He couldn't give her forever, but he could give her this one last night, just between the two of them, before she had to leave. He kissed her slowly, stoking the lust between them again, wanting to make this night last as long as possible.

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Ayla lay curled up on Alistair's chest, her fingers tracing light patterns continually over his bare torso while he played gently with her hair, his hands sliding through it, occasionally twisting a lock around his fingers. She'd had time to think about what had happened earlier, and she felt only guilt about it now, about the way she'd handled it, so she poked him gently in the chest, clearing her throat. "I'm sorry, Alistair."

His fingers halted in her hair, which she was sorry for. The sensation of them on her scalp had been incredibly soothing. One of his hands slid from her hair, down to her chin, tipping it up and forcing her to look at him as his brow furrowed. "Sorry? What for?"

She sighed, wanting to drop her face away from his too-perceptive gaze, but he didn't let her. "For earlier. I – I'm not used to . . . this." She waved her hand between the two of them. "To . . . being together with someone. When I heard what might happen when you face the archdemon, I only thought of the way it made me feel, and I couldn't handle it. I didn't even stop to think of the way you must have felt, and I left you. I should have been there for you. But even if Morrigan hadn't . . . had a plan," she shuddered at the mere thought before forging on, "I wouldn't have left you alone all night, I swear it to you. Once I'd had time to pull myself together, I would have come to beg your forgiveness if you hadn't found me first. I'm just . . . not very good at this yet, I suppose. But I will get better, I promise. Don't give up on me."

His eyes were warm as his hand left her chin, stroking over her cheek gently. "Of course not. I would never give up on you. I'm no better at this than you, you know. If you hadn't found out on your own, I'm not sure I would have had any idea of how to tell you." He shrugged, giving her a wry grin. "I'm sure I'm bound to screw up sooner or later, so how about I promise to take it easy on you if you take it easy on me? We'll figure it out together."

She smiled, her heart full to bursting with love for him – love and relief that there was still a chance for them. How like him, she thought, taking his hand in hers and pressing her lips to his rough palm, to forgive her so easily and readily after she'd been a coward. Because she had been. She should have lent him her strength after a revelation like that, not run away from him. She had to be stronger from now on. She _would_ be stronger, for his sake. "Of course we will," she agreed softly. "But you're wrong, you know. You're better at this than I am. You're so much braver with your heart – you give it freely, instead of guarding it selfishly, like I do."

He was flushing now, she saw, ducking his head in embarrassment even as his hand tightened around hers. "I don't know about that."

"I do," she said firmly, meeting his gaze with absolute certainty. "You, Alistair, are an incredible, amazing man, and I count myself very lucky to be the woman you decided to give your heart to. I love you, and –"

She was cut off when his mouth met hers, hot and hard and open, his tongue sliding in possessively. She stilled for a second in surprise before rising to meet him, pressing her body against his, skin sliding against skin as she let him devour her. In only a few short moments, he'd rolled her over for the second time that night, and she knew it would be merely one of many as she gladly arched up to meet him, the two of them racing together towards their peak.

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She was dreaming of Alistair again. Though some of the broken dreams she'd had throughout this long night had been nightmares of losing him, of his body convulsing in pain after he'd struck down the archdemon until he lay dead at her feet, this one was not. This was a good dream – in this one, he was making love to her. His warm, calloused hands were sliding over her body, caressing her breasts, curving over her waist, tracing her hips, squeezing her buttocks, before one hand slid between her legs, his fingers delving into her, curling deliciously inside her. Even as she squirmed beneath him, gasping and writhing restlessly, his mouth closed searing hot over her nipple, suckling strongly, sending bolts of lust thrumming through her body. She could feel herself going hot and liquid, her body arching up to his, before his hand slid out and the dream ended abruptly.

Ended because she'd awakened, her mind jerked from sleep as Alistair thrust roughly into her, making her realize that her dream and reality had been the same. Her body was already moving, already meeting his, her arms and legs closing around him even as her mind struggled from sleep. He was moving in a frantic rhythm, one he'd only employed once before down in the Deep Roads, as his mouth moved over her, tasting her skin everywhere, desperately. He must have been the one awakened from a nightmare this time, she realized, and he'd needed her to chase it away.

And she would do it gladly. She met his desperation, his frenzied rhythm, as she dug her nails into his back, as she bit his chest, his shoulder, his earlobe, anywhere she could reach. He shuddered, pressing his face against her chest, and she could feel the rumbling groan he made all through her own body; it was one of her favourite sensations in life now. That, and the strength of his hands upon her, the way his hard, warm body felt pressed against hers, the way it felt when he filled her, when he was moving in her so deeply.

She arched higher, locking her legs around him tighter, trying to pull him in even more. She gripped his hair tightly with one hand while the other remained dug in his shoulder, pulling his head to her mouth so she could tongue the shell of his ear as she felt the rising tide of lust crashing over her like a wave. "Alistair," she breathed in his ear, "my love. Let go for me."

"Ayla," he moaned, long and low, gripping her bottom tightly in both hands, pulling her into him as he slammed hard into her, one last time, spilling himself inside her while he shuddered in her arms. The enraptured look on his face, the naked pleasure in his eyes and the husky rumble of his voice were enough to bring her to her own peak; a fiery bolt of sensation raced through her as she cried out, her body convulsing around his.

They fell limply, together, Alistair's body a warm, comforting weight over hers, his length still buried within her, the way she liked best. They stayed like that for long moments, wrapped together, as they recovered their breath. Eventually, he moved to pull out of her, and though she tried to keep him there atop of her, her limbs were too weak and exhausted to stop him as he rolled onto his back next to her.

"What did you do that for?" she asked softly as she managed to slowly sit up. "I wanted to stay like that . . ." _forever_ "for as long as we could."

He was sitting up now too, staring at her, before he suddenly blurted out, "Marry me."

She blinked, stunned speechless. She'd expected him to ask her one day, of course, but she'd thought it would be after the Blight was over, when their future was more secure. She certainly hadn't expected him to ask now, on what would be their last night alone together before facing the archdemon.

And she hadn't yet brought up the bonding ceremony that would make them life-mates. She knew she should have, but it was so much to ask. Even in her own country, it was a seldom-practiced ritual anymore. It was too much for a lot of couples, particularly those that were arranged matches; it was too deep and too dangerous a commitment for many. And it might be too much to expect of Alistair, even if it did mean a lot to her. So she hadn't asked, hadn't brought it up. She should now, she knew. It was the perfect opportunity. But still not knowing exactly what she wanted to say, she decided to play for time, grinning at him as she asked playfully, "You mean marry you right now? Like this?" She gestured at their naked bodies.

"No, of course not, I didn't mean right _now_ ," he sputtered hastily. "Unless – unless you want to do it right now. I – I could ask the Arl if he knows of anyone who could –"

She chuckled softly, interrupting him as she laid a hand on his chest, shaking her head at him. "Relax, Alistair, I was only teasing you." It was endearing to see how flustered he could still get.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, smiling ruefully at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask you like this. I had a much better plan. I had this speech all ready to charm you with –" he winked at her when she laughed – "and I was going to find you some roses, you know. And I have a ring to give you, in my pack. I was going to do this so much better, but it just kind of . . . popped out." He looked down at her, his gaze slightly anxious now. "Since I've asked anyway . . . what's your answer?"

She was startled – and incredibly gratified – to realize he'd put so much thought into this already. She knew from discreetly questioning Leliana about the customs here that rings were the token exchanged by couples in Ferelden when they pledged themselves. In Fallor, the tokens exchanged between life-mates were an item of deep import to each person. They were sometimes rings, but could just as often be bracelets, or necklaces, or armbands, or even daggers. The only thing she had left of such a personal nature that she could conceivably give to him was her lieutenant's armband. But, she thought now, she could get him a ring too, as soon as she had a chance. There was no reason he couldn't have two tokens from her, marking him as hers.

Realizing he was still waiting for an answer from her, and looking surprisingly vulnerable, she smiled at him, leaning up on her knees to kiss him gently. "Of course my answer is yes. I'd marry you with no ring, no flowers, and no fancy speeches. Naked, if that's what you wanted."

His smile was blindingly bright, his eyes sweeping over her body briefly as though he were considering it, before he kissed her in return, sweetly, slowly, joyfully. " _Maker_ , I love you so much. But no, not naked. There would have to be witnesses, and I'd be too jealous to let anyone see you like that." He shrugged as she laughed at him, before his expression went suddenly serious. "But . . . are you sure?"

She frowned, watching him with sudden suspicion. "What do you mean 'am I _sure_ '?"

"Well . . ." he hesitated, studying her. "There were a couple of things I wanted to ask you before you said yes . . ."

" _Alistair_ . . ."

"Just hear me out, please," he begged her, obviously hearing the warning note in her voice. When she sighed and nodded, giving in, he went on, "You know I'm going to be staying with the Wardens after this. And though it won't be quite so dangerous once the Blight's done, there will still be darkspawn to face, and missions to go on. So . . . I'm not going to be able to give you a peaceful life, or a safe life, or even a roof over your head most of the time. That is, unless you stay behind at headquarters –"

"Oh no," she interrupted him, scowling as she shook her head. "I am _not_ staying behind anywhere. Anywhere you go, I go, just like we've done so far."

"Ayla . . ." he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably. "This entire Blight has kind of been a special circumstance. Once it's done, I'm going to have to start taking orders from the First Warden at Weisshaupt and he might not let me do whatever I want. We don't normally fight darkspawn with anyone who isn't a Warden."

"So tell him I helped you during the Blight and know how to face darkspawn, and you won't stay on as the Commander without me. Or," she said as an idea occurred to her, "I can go through the Joining –"

" _No_!" He snapped at her, his hand slashing through the air in denial. "Absolutely not! I will _never_ risk you like that, not _ever_ , unless you get tainted and there's no other choice. The odds of surviving a Joining are incredibly low, so _no_. I just . . . you can't ask that of me!"

"All right," she agreed softly, laying a soothing hand on his arm, a little shocked. She'd never seen him so distraught before, so on this matter, at least, she would willingly concede. "Okay, I won't. We'll figure something else out, then. Maybe we won't even bother to ask, and just see if anyone notices or cares that I go with you. Anyway, what you were saying before about peace and safety – I don't care about any of that. I don't _want_ any of that. If I did, I would have returned home. So if that's all you were worried about –"

"No," he said quietly, cutting her off with a shake of his head, "that wasn't all of it. There was one more thing."

"Which is?" she prompted him, sliding her hand down his arm to capture his hand and squeeze it gently.

"Children." His voice was so low she almost didn't pick it up. He was carefully not meeting her eyes as he continued, "I told you once before about how it's very difficult for Wardens to have children, because of the taint. So I might not be able to give you any. And I would understand if –"

"Alistair," she said firmly, "stop. Look at me." He did, slowly, his gaze sliding back to hers, anxiety blazing in the depths of his hazel eyes. "I love you, and I want _you_ , and only you, okay? I just want to be with you, for the rest of my life, and that's all that matters to me. The rest of it – I don't care about it. It doesn't matter. Honestly, I've never even thought about having children."

"Not yet you haven't, but in a few years, you might. And I –" he sighed. "I just don't want you to regret this later, if you change your mind. And maybe – resent me for it."

"Don't be an idiot!" she exclaimed, whacking him lightly on the chest. "I would never resent you for something like that! Besides, difficult doesn't mean impossible, now, does it?"

"Well, no," he admitted, "but any Warden I've ever heard of who had children had them _before_ the Joining. And we've already – you know – _tried_ a lot and nothing's happened so far."

"Actually, we haven't," she replied, and when he looked at her, frowning, she explained quickly, "I've been taking a potion that prevents pregnancy that Morrigan makes for me. We had a similar one, back in Fallor, so that women who wished to mate and not get pregnant could do so. Even though you'd told me it was unlikely, I asked Morrigan anyway, just in case something _did_ happen. I didn't want to take even a small chance that I would end up with child and fighting the archdemon."

"Oh," he said softly, looking a trifle wide-eyed with surprise. "I suppose that makes sense. I didn't realize . . . well. Anyway, I – I would like to have children with you, if it were possible. You know, have a beautiful little girl that looks just like you . . ." he trailed off, a wistful smile on his face.

She'd told him the truth when she'd said she had never really considered having children of her own before. But now, hearing him talk about it, she realized she did want children – _his_ children, and maybe that was why she'd never thought about it before. "What about a handsome boy who looks just like _you_?" He looked up at her, shocked, and she smiled. "What? Haven't I told you – and _shown_ you – how much I love the way you look?"

He was blushing now, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Ah, yes, I – suppose you have." She grinned. It amused her to no end how she could still make him blush so much, after all they'd done together. "So," he began slowly, "does that mean you _do_ want to have children?"

"With you? Yes. With anyone else? No. Listen to me carefully, Alistair," she told him, "because I'm only going to explain this once, and after that, you're not going to worry about it anymore. After the Blight, we are going to get married, I will stop taking the potion, and we will try as many times as we possibly can. And if it turns out we don't have children, I will be _completely_ fine with that, because I will have you. But if we do – I would be honoured to be the mother of your children."

He was looking at her in such wonder now that it was her turn to blush, and he smiled, taking her hands reverently in his. "Every time I think it's impossible for me to love you more, you go and surprise me like that," he whispered softly. "And the honour would be all mine, I assure you."

She sighed, squeezing his calloused fingers. "Alistair – am I ever going to be able to convince you that I love you?"

"I _know_ you love me, really, I do," he insisted when she raised her eyebrows at him. "I don't doubt that, honestly. The only reason I asked those things was not because I doubt your feelings, but because they are basic things a husband _should_ be able to give his wife. And the fact that I can't give them to you – or probably can't anyway – it bothers _me_. So I just wanted to make absolutely sure, before we went through with this, that it doesn't bother you, even if it was stupid of me to ask."

"Okay," she said, nodding. She could see his point, and honestly, it was sweet of him to worry about not being able to give her things, even if they were things she didn't want – or didn't realize she had wanted. "So, can I ask _you_ something stupid, then?"

He blinked at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Of course, but what could you possibly be worried about?"

"Well, as long as we're making sure of things, I just –" she hesitated. "Well . . . I wanted to make sure you wouldn't regret marrying the first and only woman you've been with. That you won't see some beautiful woman in a few years and wonder what it would be like to be with her. I've already tried other men, so to speak, and I know it won't ever be better than it is with you, but you haven't had that chance, so . . ."

He was staring at her in complete shock by the time she'd finished, before he shook his head incredulously. "Ayla . . . now you're the one being an idiot! I've already told you, I have no interest in any woman but you. I don't need to _try_ other women out just to know that it'll never be any better than this. I told you, I already know that, even if I _think_ it's you, it will never feel the same as it does with you. So yes, you're the first woman I've been with, and you will absolutely be the only woman I will ever be with or want to be with. And _you_ are not going to worry about that ever again either, understand?"

She nodded, smiling, feeling relief swamp her at his words. She had known it was a stupid thing to ask, but she'd had just that little doubt at the back of her mind that wouldn't leave her alone. Besides, fidelity was an important part of the bond, and she'd needed to know for certain. "I understand."

"So that is a sure and certain yes, then?" he prompted her gently. "No doubts?"

"No doubts," she agreed. "But I do have just one little condition to my yes."

"Whatever you want," he said instantly. "Anything."

"I just want you to consider something for me," she replied carefully, meeting his gaze straight on and seeing the curiosity lurking there. "It doesn't matter whether you say yes or no, I won't hold it against you, and we'll still get married. I just want you to think it over very carefully, and answer me later. That's all."

"Well, of course I'll consider whatever you want me to," he answered, searching her face, "but what is it?"

"You've heard me use the term life-mate before, right?" When he nodded, his eyes still burning with curiosity, she went on, "In Fallor, there's a . . . permanent bonding ceremony that will link two mates together for the rest of their lives. It's a very serious commitment, more so than just a marriage. When you're bonded together, you can sense each other at all times, so even if you weren't together, you would know if something happens. And you can feel strong emotions from each other, so it heightens everything between you. Which can be amazing for things like making love, but can also be devastating for things like experiencing pain. In fact, the greatest downside of the bond is that if it is particularly strong, one mate may not survive the death of the other. On the other hand, with a strong bond, you can also lend your strength to one another if you are ill or injured. And it is very much a pledge for life, so even if you do survive the death of your mate, you are not to ever have another mate for the rest of your life. There are consequences if you do not remain faithful to your mate, especially when they are alive. Anyway," she finished quietly, "I know it is a lot to ask, so I just want you to think about it, and answer me after the Blight is done. And I honestly won't hold it against you if you say no."

He nodded, watching her thoughtfully, and she could tell he was turning it all over in his mind. "Of course I'll consider it, if it's important to you. But . . . how does it work? I'm guessing it's some sort of magic?"

"Yes, it's a ritual," she explained, "rather like the Joining, I suppose. Except it's each other's blood we'd be using, not darkspawn blood. There's a few other rituals like it in Fallor, like the oath of protection, but this is the most potent one."

"So it's blood magic?" He was frowning now.

"Only as much as the Joining is, I suppose," Ayla answered, shrugging. "It only requires a few drops of each person's blood, and not any from the caster. Rituals like this are the only time blood is ever used in magic in Fallor. It's not . . . _bad_ magic, like most of the blood magic here."

"No, I suppose not. This is something you really want, though? You know as a Warden I'm not going to live as long as everyone else, no matter what – do you really want to risk dying along with me?" She could hear the worry in his voice, see it in his face as he toyed with strands of her hair again, not quite meeting her gaze. This point, she could tell, was the most important one for him, and the most likely reason he would say no.

"I do," she replied firmly, tipping his face back up to meet hers so he could see the certainty in her gaze. "This is something I want very much, and it's really important to me. Besides, life-mates don't always die together. My father and mother were bonded, and my father survived her death." This was true, though she didn't bother telling Alistair that according to Mardin, it had been a very near thing. Mardin had always thought that the only reason their father had survived was because of them begging him not to die. She couldn't remember that, though, so she had no idea if it was true or not.

"All right," he agreed at last, nodding slowly. "I'll think it over, and I'll give you my answer after the final battle. But you still want to marry me, either way, right?"

"Absolutely." She smiled when she saw the joy light his face at her answer. "So you had better live through this battle with the archdemon."

"I will," he promised her, laying a hand over his heart, "if you will."

"Together." She sealed the promise with a kiss while laying her hand over his, feeling the beat of his heart beneath. She would not, she vowed to herself, lose that sound in this final battle, no matter what.

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They would reach Denerim within the next day, Alistair knew. He could feel the horde now; whatever the archdemon had been doing to block his ability seemed to have waned the closer they got. They'd raced after the darkspawn as fast as they could, and had managed to close the gap between the two armies down to only a day. The darkspawn would have reached Denerim by now, but their army had been forced to stop and rest. They all knew that charging in without resting would not accomplish anything, and so they had halted for a few brief hours of sleep. Alistair was currently on watch now along with a few other members of the army while the others slept.

He, Aedan, and Riordan had taken it upon themselves to divide up the watches between the three of them every time they did stop for a night's rest. They had thought it best to continue to have a Warden available among those on watch to sense the darkspawn in case they were attacked by scouts and roving bands. He had gotten the last shift this night, which was probably just as well; knowing that Denerim and the horde were so close, he doubted that he could have slept right now anyway.

He was both eager to get the fight over with and incredibly reluctant to face the archdemon. What if they didn't succeed? What if this became Ostagar all over again? Or what if they did succeed, but not all of them made it? He tortured himself with the thought daily, whenever he had a chance to think about it. He knew that Morrigan had done her ritual, and so defeating the archdemon should not kill him or Aedan or even Riordan; but that did not mean that any one of them wouldn't fall in battle before that happened. Or, worse yet, one of their companions.

And then there was the matter of the ritual itself. Aedan had explained it to him later, one of the nights they'd had a chance to speak alone. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was grateful for the chance to live, to remain with Ayla, certainly, but what if allowing the soul of the old god to enter a child brought about something worse? He still wasn't entirely sure they could trust Morrigan, and especially not this plan that came from her mother. Yet Aedan was sure it would be all right, or that they could handle it later if it wasn't, and in any case, it was already done with. Aedan had already gone ahead with it; there was no turning back now. All that remained was to see if it actually worked, once they faced the archdemon.

And if it did, the Blight would finally be over, and if all went the way he hoped, he would be free to marry Ayla. The fact that she had said yes, even with the clumsy way he'd asked her, had made him far happier than he had any right to be at this moment, but he couldn't seem to help the joy that sprung through him whenever he thought of their future together. But whenever thoughts of their future occurred to him, so did thoughts of the surprise she'd sprung on him with her life-mate bond. She'd asked him just to consider it, and so he had, but he couldn't seem to come to a decision on it.

He wanted to say yes; it was obviously important to her, and it was a tradition from her own land, something he could give her to remind her of her home. He knew she must miss it at least a little, whatever she said, and she'd stayed here for him, so this would be the least he could do for her. Yet he still had his doubts; it wasn't that he was afraid to commit to something deeper, but rather that he didn't want even the possibility of condemning her to die along with him.

The rest of it he didn't have a problem with; even the blood magic aspect of it didn't bother him as badly as he had thought it would. She had been right in that it was very similar to the Joining; having gone through that, and being willing to keep performing it, how could he refuse this bond because it involved blood magic also? He couldn't without being a hypocrite, he knew, so he wouldn't refuse on it that basis. The only other part that bothered him was that she would be able to feel it whenever he got hurt, and he didn't want to be the cause of any pain for her. But the rest of it sounded so appealing, he wasn't sure just what he wanted to do.

Well, he thought, casting a glance at the sky that was growing steadily lighter, there was no point in agonizing over it now. First he had to make it through the battle against the archdemon alive. Then he could decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Denerim's just over that next ridge," Aedan muttered to Alistair, pointing at the hill rising ahead of them. Beyond, they could see the ominous red glow that indicated Denerim was already burning.

"Yeah, I know." Alistair flexed his hands; he could feel his palms sweating inside his gauntlets, his heart beating anxiously. Worse yet, he could feel the steadily increasing pressure, the sick tingle running up and down his spine, indicating that they were very close to the darkspawn horde – and the archdemon.

"The army grows nervous," Morrigan observed from Aedan's other side. And it was true; Alistair could hear the growing rumble of anxious voices behind them. "Perhaps someone should address them?"

"It's a good idea," Ayla agreed softly. "A speech to inspire them, to boost their morale would be just what they need. And who better than the two of you?"

"What, you think I should go up there too?" Alistair asked, staring down at her in surprise. He wasn't even that good at talking to one person sometimes; how was he supposed to address an army?

"Of course," she nodded firmly at him. "You're going to be the Warden Commander, and Aedan's going to be the King, and you've been doing this together all along. Why stop now?" She must have seen the worried look on his face, for she added, smiling at him, "You'll do fine. I believe in you, remember?"

"Yeah, come on, Alistair, let's rouse the troops," Aedan urged him, heading towards the ridge up ahead and beckoning Alistair to follow. He did so, reluctantly, but he went, because he didn't want to disappoint either of them. He and Aedan hurried up to the top of the hill, and turned to address the masses behind them, the ragtag army of mages, elves, dwarves, and humans, who all halted when they saw the Wardens standing on the hill ahead of them.

Aedan spoke first, his voice ringing out loud and clear over the army gathered below. "That is the heart of Ferelden, of our home," he shouted, pointing at the burning city beyond the hill, "and we will not let them take it! We will be the light that stands against the darkness, that halts the advance of the Blight in our land! As Fereldans, we have always succeeded where the odds seemed impossible, stood fast against the threats that came our way, and we will not fail now! The darkspawn are frightening, yes, but they die just as men do – and they will fall before us, just as the Orlesians did!"

The cheers that burst out from the crowd below were loud and thunderous, and Alistair suddenly knew what he wanted to say as he met Ayla's eyes. She gave him an encouraging smile and nod as he banged his shield, drawing the attention of the crowd to him. "Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde! Gaze upon them now, but fear them not!" He clapped his hand on Aedan's shoulder as he continued, "The man beside me is a native of Ferelden, the last son of the Cousland house, now risen to the ranks of the Grey Wardens! He is proof that glory is within reach of us all! He has survived despite the odds, and without him, none of us would be here! Today, we save Denerim! Today we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan! Today is the day that we make history – that we defeat the archdemon, the darkspawn, and the Blight! But most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honour their sacrifice! For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!"

He finished on a roar, pointing to the city beyond, and the army, now roused to a fever pitch, raced past him and Aedan towards the burning city and its desperately battling citizens. Drawing his sword and shield, Alistair joined them, his earlier anxiety vanished in the wake of his determination to save Denerim and honour Duncan and the other Wardens. This time would not be like Ostagar – this time, they would succeed. This time, the darkspawn would be the ones that fell beneath the onslaught of the army charging towards them.


	55. War and Dragon's Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party enters Denerim and splits up to fight the archdemon and guard the gates; they say their goodbyes before going on. Alistair and Aedan battle their way through Denerim with the others, finally reaching the archdemon and confronting it at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics that were the inspiration for the title:
> 
> Dreams of war, dreams of liars  
> Dreams of dragon's fire  
> And of things that will bite

Chapter 54: War and Dragon's Fire

The darkspawn hadn't been expecting them, too focused on the desperately battling citizens of Denerim outside of the city gates, so that when the wave of fresh troops hit them, the darkspawn crumbled quickly under the onslaught. Aedan led the charge along with Alistair and Riordan, the three Wardens cutting their way through their assembled foes rapidly, leaving the others to follow. As they got closer to the gates of the city, the resistance of the horde built, slowing them down, but they still pressed steadily onward, their companions and the members of their ragtag army following closely behind. Their presence seemed to renew the determination of those few soldiers of Denerim left alive, so that they rallied against their opponents and helped clear a path to the gates.

The gates hung open, damaged, clearly battled down by the darkspawn when they first arrived, and it was therefore a relatively simple matter for Aedan and the others to press their way through once they'd defeated the darkspawn gathered there. It was fortunate, Aedan mused once they were inside the walls, that there appeared to be no ogres or particularly strong darkspawn gathered here at the moment, mostly the weaker genlocks and hurlocks. It didn't take as long as he'd expected for them to clear out the resistance of the darkspawn inside the first section of the city gates, leaving them with some precious time to stop and regroup while they caught their breath, setting soldiers to guard the gate behind them.

Riordan came up to him when the last darkspawn in their area had fallen, and Alistair and the others quickly made their way over from where they'd finished felling their opponents to hear what the older Warden had to say. "We've managed to fight our way to the gate. We're doing better than I hoped."

Sten snorted. "That will change quickly."

Aedan rolled his eyes at the qunari's words. Though he didn't disagree, he wouldn't have expressed his opinion out loud; it was a sure-fire way to dampen morale. Not that the constant sound of distant screaming, swords clashing, and crackling fires helped either. Or the eerie red glow that surrounded the city from the many fires burning, making it surprisingly easy to see everything although it was already night. "Yes, thank you Sten, that was helpful," he said dryly.

"Bloody nug runners!" Oghren exclaimed as he finally reached them, slinging his axe over one shoulder. "We're outnumbered three to one!"

"What are we to do now, Riordan?" Wynne asked calmly, her attention on the senior Warden. "You have a plan, I assume?"

Riordan nodded briefly in response, and Aedan let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was nice not to be the one to have to make the plan for once, especially as he had no idea where to begin with fighting an archdemon. "The army will not last long, so we'll need to move quickly to reach the archdemon," Riordan said briskly. "Slaying the archdemon will cause the remaining darkspawn to lose their purpose and flee; it's the easiest way to ensure victory." He met Aedan's eyes, continuing, "I suggest taking Alistair and a few others with you into the city. Anyone you don't bring with you can remain here to prevent more darkspawn from entering Denerim on our tails."

Aedan frowned, noticing Riordan's omission of himself in the plan. He'd thought that all three of them would face the archdemon together. "You are not coming with us?"

Riordan shook his head. "I need to go in separately. If we're together, the archdemon will sense us before we're ready. I am hoping that he will focus on me as the senior Warden for the moment, leaving the two of you free to move around. We're going to need to reach a high point in the city . . . I'm thinking the top of Fort Drakon might work."

"The top of . . .? You want to draw the dragon's attention?" Alistair demanded incredulously, staring at the older man in shock.

Riordan shrugged, explaining, "We have little choice, though I warn you that as soon as we engage the beast it will call all its generals to help it. I can sense two generals in Denerim – you should be able to feel them too, Alistair." Aedan turned to Alistair in surprise; after a moment of concentration, his brother nodded. Aedan tried to concentrate himself, but couldn't feel anything beyond the oppressing pressure down his spine that indicated the presence of the horde, the same feeling he'd felt in the Deep Roads. And, of course, there was the overwhelming blackness that passed through him like ice every now and again, the indication that the archdemon was here. It appeared he'd not yet fully mastered sensing the darkspawn. "You may wish to seek them out before going to Fort Drakon," Riordan finished, meeting Aedan's eyes significantly when he finally turned his attention back to the other Warden.

"I am sure that if we did slay those generals, it would stop the darkspawn in the city from doing a lot of harm!" Leliana exclaimed from behind Aedan.

"Not to mention, we'll have enough to deal with when fighting the archdemon," Ayla offered from her spot close to Alistair's side. "We don't need its most powerful allies showing up and attacking us from behind."

Aedan nodded thoughtfully, weighing her words. She was likely right; he didn't relish the thought of having to face the archdemon period, but he especially didn't want his focus split between fighting it and trying to watch his back for powerful darkspawn at the same time. Even as he was considering it, Riordan went on, "It may also waste resources trying to find them. The decision is up to you."

"I think we'd best go after the generals, if we can reach them fairly easily," Aedan said at last, exchanging a glance with Alistair, who nodded in response. "I don't want the fight with the archdemon to be any more difficult than it has to be."

"Very well," Riordan replied, neither his expression nor his tone revealing what he thought of Aedan's decision, before he continued, "There are already several units of our allies within the city by now. They may be able to come to your assistance if you call them, but their strength will be limited. Now, who do you wish to take with you into the city?"

This was the toughest decision, Aedan knew. He couldn't take everybody, as some of them would need to remain behind and direct the soldiers watching the gate, ensuring that no darkspawn followed them in. Not to mention, anyone he took with him would be in greater danger than those left behind, yet he would need as much help as he could get. "Well, Alistair, of course," he began, since he wouldn't be able to find the generals without him, and it made no sense to leave the only other Warden behind. Ayla was glaring fiercely and pointedly at him, and knowing he'd be facing her wrath if he tried to leave her behind, he added, "Ayla, Morrigan," because she'd never forgive him if he went without her either, "Zevran," because the elf would be useful both at close and long range, "and . . ." he hesitated. "Wynne, if you don't mind, I think we could use all the healing and magical shields we can get when facing the archdemon, though I am reluctant to leave the rest of you without a healer."

"Bah, we'll be fine," Oghren snorted dismissively, waving his hand. "Besides, there's a bunch of them other mages running around, ain't there? We'll get one of them to help out if we need it."

"I will come along, of course," Wynne agreed. "I think it would be wise to have an extra healer along, as you say, and I would not wish to remain behind, in any case." The older mage smiled at him, and Aedan sighed in relief, glad everyone had agreed. It would be a bloody business before it was all through with, he knew, and there was no better healer around than Wynne.

"Fair enough," Riordan said, turning to the others and continuing, "Anyone else will need to remain here and assist in keeping more darkspawn from coming in the gates behind us. Who will lead them?"

The only ones left behind, Aedan realized, would be Sten, Oghren, Leliana, and Striker, whom he'd brought along with them against his better judgment, rather than leaving the mabari behind at Redcliffe where he would have been safer. It had made him feel better to have the dog there with him, the only thing left of his home, however selfish it might have been. Of the choices left, he decided, "Sten would be the most suitable, I think." He knew the qunari had led men into battle before, and that he was eager to get a taste of that leadership again, as well as more likely than Oghren to keep a clear head. Leliana's talents, though many, didn't extend to leadership in battle, in his opinion.

"Very likely," Sten said, his tone never changing, though he nodded at Aedan in cool approval.

"Good. That should be sufficient." Riordan met each of their eyes in turn, his gaze finally landing on Aedan, piercing and serious. "Nothing you have done has prepared you for what you face now. May the Maker watch over you." Without another word, the older Warden turned and left, heading deeper into the city, leaving the rest of them there.

Aedan turned to face his companions, who'd followed him faithfully throughout this whole endeavour, and smiled wearily at them. "I suppose we should get going ourselves. Take a few minutes before we leave, make sure you have everything you need; this will be it. Let me know when you're ready."

The others all drifted away, checking their packs and weapons, looking nearby to see if there was anything that might be useful, while Aedan checked his own supplies, making sure he had as many health potions in his pouch as he could conceivably carry, as well as a full waterskin and a bit of food. He'd just finished checking his sword and armor, satisfied that he was ready to go, when Oghren approached him.

"Well, this is it, boss." The dwarf nodded at him formally, and Aedan realized with surprise that he'd come to say his goodbyes. "'When from the blood of battle the Stone has fed, let the heroes prevail and the blighters lie dead.' As one of the blighters, I sodding salute you. Let's show them our hearts and then show them theirs."

Aedan couldn't help but smile; the brief speech was so like the dwarf and yet at the same time, surprisingly uplifting. "Thank you, Oghren. I truly appreciate all you've done to help."

"Eh, I haven't done much," the dwarf muttered, flushing. "Anyway, I'll see you when you get back, boss." Oghren wandered off before Aedan could say anymore, and when he passed Alistair and Ayla, Aedan could distantly hear him say, "Hey, boy, since I won't be going with you, make sure you keep an eye on that woman of yours, ya hear?" Alistair nodded soberly in response, and Ayla said something Aedan couldn't hear, shaking her head at the dwarf.

With his attention focused on them, Aedan had failed to notice Sten approaching him along with Striker; the mabari lay down at his feet, whining, ears down, the very picture of canine unhappiness. Aedan crouched down, rubbing the dog's head fondly. "Don't worry, boy. I'll be back, I promise."

Striker leapt to his feet when Aedan stood up, barking and dancing happily in response. Aedan grinned before he turned to Sten. "Will you keep an eye on him for me?"

"Of course, Warden," the qunari replied gravely before asking, "Are you ready? We have reached the battlefield at last."

"Ready as I will ever be, I suppose. Thank you for your help, Sten," he finished seriously. Though he and the qunari had not always seen eye-to-eye, and had experienced some rough patches, Sten had fought hard for them, and lately, Aedan had felt they were finally coming to a mutual respect of one another.

"I have done nothing. You have carried us this far. Do not doubt that." Sten's response left Aedan momentarily speechless; he had not thought the qunari would ever say something like that, even if their respect had grown. Sten left before he could say anything else, Striker bounding after him with one last look back.

Leliana was there almost immediately, as though she'd been waiting her turn to say her own farewell. "So this is it . . . this is the end," she said softly. "We've come so far. It's strange knowing that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours. I wish I could go with you."

"Yes, we've come a very long way since Lothering," Aedan agreed quietly. "Thank you for your help, Leliana, with all of it. But, I cannot bring everyone. In any case, it's less dangerous here, and I need someone with sharp eyes to look after Sten, Oghren, and Striker."

Leliana smiled warmly at him. "That is true. I will do whatever I can to help here. Be safe, Aedan, and may the Maker smile fortune on you." She turned to leave, spotting Ayla and Alistair as they came up to Aedan, obviously ready to leave as well. She paused, meeting Ayla's eyes as she said, "Please, be careful, my friend. Do not be too reckless, I do not want this to be the last time we see one another."

Ayla moved forward to hug the other woman. "It won't be, I promise," she vowed as they pulled apart again. "We'll all come back safely, so we can celebrate together."

"I will hold you to that," the bard answered as she moved away, nodding at Alistair. "I wish you both luck."

"You too, Leliana," Alistair replied.

Zevran came up to join them, saying something to Leliana as he passed that earned him a swat, before stopping in front of Aedan, declaring cheerfully, "So now we head into the city together to face the archdemon, hmm?"

"That is the plan, Zev," Aedan said dryly, though the elf's unshakable enthusiasm was certainly welcome at the moment.

"Good. I was nearly afraid you were about to march inside without me. We cannot have that! Who would watch your backs, after all?" Zevran exchanged a sudden and significant glance with Alistair, making Aedan frown thoughtfully, curious as to the meaning behind it. "Let us go and teach this dragon a lesson, yes?" Zevran continued. "It should have stayed in whatever hole it crawled out of."

"That would have been nice if it had," Aedan sighed, and Alistair snorted in obvious agreement. "But since it didn't, I suppose we'd better go make it regret coming out."

Alistair came up to Aedan, pulling him a little aside as Zevran and Ayla discussed something, saying in a low voice, "Before we head after the archdemon, I want to say something. I know Morrigan's . . . what she did is supposed to save us, but who knows if she can be trusted? Or if we'll even survive long enough to take that final blow. So I just want you to know that it's been . . . an honor fighting by your side."

"I know you have trouble trusting Morrigan, so you'll just have to trust me, okay? I believe her when she says it will work. And I believe – I _have_ to believe – that we will strike the final blow." He clapped Alistair on the shoulder, adding, "I feel the same, though. You've been a good friend to me, and there was no one I would rather have faced the Blight with, brother. But nobody's dying today, so enough with the speeches, all right?"

Alistair grinned, punching him lightly on the shoulder in turn. "Nobody's dying? Is that wishful thinking?" He looked over at Ayla, his expression growing wistful. "I suppose we could always hope for a miracle, right?"

"Yeah, we can," Aedan agreed softly. "We're all going to make it through this, Alistair, and I want an invitation to your wedding when we do, okay?"

"Of course. You'll be the first one to know. But first, we have to find this archdemon and kick its ass. So let's go." Alistair turned and headed past Ayla and Zevran, Wynne joining them as they headed towards the next gate that led into the main part of the city.

Aedan hurried after them, glancing back for Morrigan, who suddenly appeared at his side. She looked up at him as they walked together after the others. "So we head into the city together. As it should be." She hesitated for a moment before going on, "Once this is done, no matter how it turns out, I will have to leave immediately. You are aware of this, yes?"

Aedan nodded slowly. As much as he wished it could be otherwise, he'd come to terms with it, as much as he could, at least. "I know. As long as you let me know later where you are. But I was hoping you would stay for the celebrations, at least." A few more days with her was not too much to ask, surely?

His pretty witch shook her head, looking regretful. "I do not think that would be wise. My mother may discover me, if I remain too long after the battle. Allow me to say one thing before we go. I . . . do not regret anything that was between us, not a single moment." She smiled softly at him, as he felt a rush of warmth and love run through him from her words. "I will look forward to seeing you again when the time is right, my love."

"And I you. I will keep my promise to you, I swear it," he told her firmly, hand over his heart.

"I know you will," she said simply. "Now let us see this finally done. The archdemon awaits."

"That it does." Aedan followed after the others, making their way through the soldiers lined up on either side who cheered and shouted words of encouragement at their party as they went by. He nodded at them all, sincerely hoping that what he'd told Alistair was true. They had to make it to the archdemon, and strike the final blow. He couldn't let these people down. He wouldn't.

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They went to the Market district first, as Alistair had said he sensed the presence of one of the generals there. They went quietly through the deserted, damaged streets, Alistair in the lead now, Ayla sticking close by his side, the others ranged behind them. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go back?" Alistair asked her quietly.

"No," she snapped back at him, though she made sure her voice was still low. They'd had this argument already, after Aedan had named her as one of the group to go on and they'd been gathering their supplies. Alistair had wanted her to remain with the others, where it would be safer, and she had flatly refused. She sighed, seeing the stark worry in his eyes, and softened. "Thank you, for trying to protect me, but no. I won't be left behind while you go into danger, I told you before, and you'd better get used to that if we're going to be married."

"I know. I just thought it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot, and you'd better get used to me asking." He gave her a wry, unrepentant grin. "I'm always going to try to keep you safe, if I can, even when you don't want me to." His head jerked up suddenly, and he shivered, looking ahead. "We're almost there."

She smelled it, almost as soon as he said it; the rotting stench of corruption and blood, growing ever stronger, almost worse than what she'd smelled just outside the city, if that was even possible. She quietly drew her swords, and the others all followed suit, Aedan picking up speed to pull ahead of her so that he and Alistair would be there to take the brunt of the attack.

They rounded the corner, and there it was; the remains of the Market district, several buildings collapsed and burning, the booths all destroyed and trampled, goods scattered everywhere among the bodies of those who hadn't made it out. Ogres came stomping forwards almost immediately, and their party launched into action, both mages firing long range spells while Aedan and Alistair worked to keep the ogres focused on them, allowing herself and Zevran to slip around behind, stabbing and slicing at their legs. The combination worked fairly effectively on the first three ogres; she and Zevran were able to damage their legs enough to force the ogres to stumble and bring them down to a level where Aedan and Alistair could deal more decisive blows.

Two more ogres appeared soon after the first three; this time, there was enough time for her and Alistair to perform the move to launch her up in the air at the one's chest, while Zevran and Aedan worked on the other. She'd dealt the finishing blow and was leaping clear of the falling body when something slammed into her, knocking her into the side of a building. She fell to the ground hard, crying out in pain, seeing that it was another ogre that had suddenly joined the fight. " _Ayla_!" she heard Alistair's shout as the ogre lumbered towards her while she struggled to her feet. The blow had hurt, but she'd definitely had worse; she could still fight.

Alistair must have moved fast, for he was in front of her before the ogre reached her, blocking the next swing of its fist with his shield. The force of the blow caused him to skid backwards a few feet, so that he almost ran into her, but he stood firm. The ogre stumbled suddenly as a blast of lightning struck its back, and Ayla used the opportunity to dash around Alistair, slicing her swords across the back of the ogre's knee. She rolled out of the way as the ogre roared and fell down to its knees, and Alistair leaped up, slamming his sword hard into its chest, knocking the ogre backwards. Ayla delivered one more blow to its neck while Alistair twisted his sword hard, and the ogre was finished.

"Are you all right?!" Alistair demanded frantically, gripping her arm and pulling her to face him as he looked her over.

"I'm okay," she promised him, laying a soothing hand on his arm. She was bruised and sore, but hadn't suffered any significant damage. "Really, I am. Now let's go."

He nodded jerkily, looking shaken, but he let her arm go and they followed Aedan deeper into the marketplace. Alistair whispered a warning to Aedan before they skirted around another cluster of buildings that several more ogres were just ahead, and Aedan blew the horn that Arl Eamon had given him a few days ago in order to summon some help to them. The ogres came storming around the building as soon as the horn was blown, and the next few minutes were a bit touch and go as their party fell steadily backwards, dodging and leaping and trying to cause damage to the large group of ogres they'd stumbled across without taking damage themselves.

Some of the Redcliffe knights finally arrived just as the general they'd been looking for made its appearance, stalking towards them from behind the ogres, twirling its greataxe in the air. Two genlock emissaries were with him, and Alistair, Wynne and Morrigan were forced to focus their attention on the emissaries while Aedan, Ayla and Zevran tried to deal with the general and the remaining ogres along with the knights. It was Zevran who finally took the general down with a lethal backstab while Aedan fought it from the front; Ayla had been helping the knights keep another ogre away so that they could finish the general off without interference. The general stumbled forward, bleeding heavily from the blow to its back, and Aedan took the opportunity for one more stroke to make sure it fell, its head rolling away across the blood-soaked ground.

Alistair and the others had defeated the emissaries in the meantime, and the knights had taken down the last two ogres remaining, finally giving their party a brief respite. They all stopped for a breather, sheathing their weapons for the moment, while Morrigan and Wynne moved around, healing cuts and other injuries. "Are we all right for the moment?" Ayla asked, and Alistair nodded.

"I don't sense any other darkspawn nearby right now," he answered. "We should be okay for now."

"That was . . . a bit harder than I expected," Aedan said after a moment. "I've never seen so many ogres all in one place, and that general was definitely powerful. Do you know where the other one is?"

Alistair tilted his head, concentrating, before finally nodding. "It feels like it should be in the direction of the alienage."

"Then we'd better get moving," Aedan replied. "Everybody ready?"

Ayla nodded in response, as did the others, and their party moved on towards the gate in the corner of the marketplace that led to the alienage, this time with roughly twenty of Arl Eamon's knights behind them.

Ayla was surprised to discover when they entered the alienage that there were still some elves there, along with Shianni, the elf woman who had helped them earlier with the slavers. She stared at them with wide-eyed surprise when they came around the massive tree in the center, nearly stumbling right into her and the group of elves with her. "You! It's you! The Maker sure gave you all the gift of good timing, didn't he?" She glanced behind her at the road that led deeper into the alienage, the same way Alistair and Aedan were looking, frowns on their faces. "There is a large group of darkspawn approaching and the gates won't hold! We need your help!"

"We can handle this," Aedan told her. "Get these people to safety."

"A-all right!" Shianni answered shakily, nodding. "I only hope there is time to –"

She was interrupted by a loud thud, followed by a roar, and Ayla felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up in protest. She drew her swords as Shianni whipped around to stare at the noise, screaming, "They're breaking through!"

"Run, all of you!" a male elf next to Shianni cried. "Run for your lives!"

The alienage elves turned and fled, while Aedan and Alistair drew their weapons and headed towards the continuous thumping noise, gesturing for the others to follow. Ayla came along behind warily, swords at the ready, Zevran at her side and Wynne and Morrigan behind, while the knights grouped themselves loosely around their party. They reached the other end of the alienage just in time to see an ogre break down the gate and run forward, darkspawn spilling through the gap behind. Aedan blew the horn again, loud and long, before they all raced forward to meet the darkspawn head-on.

The battle was long and harsh; more and more darkspawn seemed to keep arriving behind the original wave, and eventually, the next general appeared as well. This one was an emissary, wielding magic more powerful than they'd ever seen before from the darkspawn. Alistair faced off against it, using his Templar abilities to try and dampen the general's magic while the rest of them fought against the never-ending stream of darkspawn.

This time Ayla was the one to finally deal the finishing blow to the general; she'd been fighting hard against another darkspawn when she'd heard Alistair cry out. Fortunately for her, the Hurlock she'd been battling against had suddenly fallen to an arrow fired by the group of Dalish elves that had finally made it to join the fight. She was able to race over to Alistair immediately; seeing that he was down on his knees, a hole blasted in his armor, she'd shifted on the run and leapt on the general, seizing him by the neck and raking him open with her claws. A few more enraged swipes from her paws and one twist of her jaws later, and the general, already weakened from its fight with Alistair, was dead.

She shifted back quickly, wanting to save some of her strength for the archdemon, and hurried the rest of the way over to Alistair, calling out for Wynne or Morrigan. There wasn't as much blood coming from the hole in his armor as she'd feared there would be, but it was still enough to worry her. She gave him one of her potions, demanding that he drink it, and she and Aedan stood guard by him, fighting off the few darkspawn that came near, until Wynne made it over and was able to heal the wound fully. The remaining darkspawn fell fairly quickly now that the Dalish elves had arrived, firing accurately and lethally into their ranks.

"You scared me," Ayla whispered to Alistair when the fight was done, taking his face in her hands while Aedan told everyone to take a few brief moments to rest before they moved on, directing Wynne and Morrigan to heal the others that had been wounded.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, taking her hands in his as he stood up and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "Thank you for saving me."

"Of course," she told him. "Always." She pulled him back down for another, more thorough kiss, before leaning back and saying, "Now please tell me that's the last of those generals."

He nodded after he'd taken a moment to sense everything again. "That's all I can feel. That means it's just the archdemon left."

"Then we should get going," she said softly, reluctantly. She didn't really want them to have to confront the archdemon, especially when they'd had such close calls with its generals already, but she knew they had to. And she knew they were running out of time; the army wouldn't be able to hold against the darkspawn for much longer. He nodded, pulling her with him as they went to rejoin Aedan and the others, and once they'd reached him, Aedan called for everyone to move on, making their way across the bridge that was just beyond the now-broken gate, which led back to the rest of the city.

Aedan had decided it was best for them to head straight to Fort Drakon next and get up to the roof in hopes that they could attract the archdemon's attention, so he led them through the ruined and burning streets towards the palace district, beyond which lay Fort Drakon. They were nearly there when they heard a roar overhead, and they all looked up to see the archdemon flying low over the city. Just as it went past one of the other towers in the city, a figure leapt off, landing square on its back. The shriek the archdemon gave seemed to indicate the person had struck with a weapon while landing.

"That has to be Riordan," Aedan muttered as they all froze below, watching the archdemon wheel towards another tower, just clipping its side as it went by, which caused the person on its back to fly up in the air.

"It looks like he's going to fall." Ayla watched closely, straining her eyes to glimpse what was going on so high above them as Riordan sailed off the archdemon's back, looking like he might indeed crash to the ground. At the last moment, however, he managed to catch himself with his sword on the dragon's wing; Ayla could see the long tear open up in the wing as he landed, sliding backwards.

The archdemon roared again, spiralling through the air now, looking as though it was struggling to remain aloft as it flew towards Fort Drakon. The constant spiralling and unbalanced flying finally knocked Riordan loose, and he went crashing down to the ground hundreds of feet below, with nothing to stop or break his fall this time. Meanwhile, the archdemon had managed to land on the roof of Fort Drakon, but it didn't fly back off. The damage to its wing must have been bad enough that it could no longer fly properly, Ayla realized, which was a stroke of luck for them.

"He's – he's dead." Alistair was staring at the spot where Riordan had fallen, wide-eyed with shock. "I thought maybe . . . there might really be a chance we would all get through this."

"I'm sorry, Alistair," Ayla said softly, looping her arm through his and squeezing it gently. "We'll just have to make sure that we use the opportunity he gave us. It looks like the archdemon can't get off the roof anymore."

"Yes," Aedan said firmly. "Let's get up there as fast as we can and get this done with."

"You're right," Alistair agreed. "We won't let his sacrifice – any of their sacrifices – be in vain." He strode towards Fort Drakon with a determined look stamped on his face, and Ayla and the others fell in behind.

"It looks like it's a good thing that we didn't rely on Riordan to be the one to deal the finishing blow," Aedan murmured to Ayla as she came up beside him, Alistair now several feet ahead of them.

Ayla nodded wordlessly, unable to fathom how she'd be feeling right now if Morrigan hadn't had a spell to keep both Aedan and Alistair from dying. She'd likely be a complete wreck at this point, especially given the fact that she still had nightmares where Morrigan's spell didn't work and Alistair died after the archdemon's defeat. She'd had that same nightmare nearly every night on the way here, and it never got any easier to handle.

She turned to see where Morrigan was; spotting the witch just behind her, she smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you, Morrigan. I owe you so much more than I can ever repay."

Morrigan shook her head, looking embarrassed. "Do not be ridiculous, Ayla. You owe me nothing; it was merely something I . . . wanted to do for you because I could. At any rate," she glanced quickly at Aedan and then away, "I did it for myself as much as for you."

Ayla grinned, amused at how uncomfortable Morrigan still was about publicly expressing her feelings for Aedan. She could see the fond smile on Aedan's face that indicated he felt the same way. "That's true enough, I suppose, but still, thank you. I don't know what I would have done had you not had that spell, or what I'll do if –"

"It will work, do not worry," Morrigan interrupted her, obviously knowing what she'd been about to say. "I am positive of that, I assure you."

"Okay." Ayla nodded, taking a breath to try to calm herself down. _He'll be fine_. "Then let's go fight a dragon. Speaking of that, Aedan, during the fight, I want to shift and try to get a grip on its neck, so somebody's going to have to keep it occupied until I can do that."

Aedan frowned at her, glancing forward at Alistair's back and then back to her, shaking his head. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"It worked for the high dragon," she pointed out. "If I can get a good grip behind its head again and injure it from up there, it should keep it busy enough that you and the others can finish it off from below. Or do you have a better idea?"

Aedan looked to Morrigan, and when she merely shrugged at him, threw up his hands, clearly unhappy. "Fine! Just – only do it if you're sure you have a clear shot at making it onto its back. And don't push yourself too much once you're up there, all right?"

"I won't," she promised. Before they could discuss any more strategy for fighting the archdemon, however, Alistair called back a warning that more darkspawn were approaching, and they hurried forward to help him.

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Getting to Fort Drakon took longer than Ayla had expected; the palace district was full of darkspawn, and they had to battle hard just to make it through to the fort itself. Fortunately, it appeared that the palace itself had yet to be breached, for its gates were still closed when they went by, and they were able to eliminate the darkspawn that had been about to lay siege to it with the help of the knights and Dalish archers that were still accompanying them.

Aedan had left what remained of the group of the knights to guard the gates to the palace, while sending a messenger from the Dalish back to the rest of the army to bring as many dwarves, mages, and knights as could be spared to help them assault the fort. Their party had pressed on with the remaining Dalish warriors, however, rather than wait for the reinforcements; they couldn't risk wasting too much time.

Ayla and the others finally reached Fort Drakon itself, only to find that the darkspawn were guarding it closely; a large group of them had entrenched themselves in front of the doors that led within, and had even erected barricades. There were several emissaries among the group as well, along with a small dragon.

The battle to get themselves inside turned out to be the toughest so far; there were just so many darkspawn in such a small area that their party was nearly overwhelmed more than once. Ayla had not intended to shift again, wanting to save all her energy for the archdemon, but she hadn't been able to avoid it. She'd been forced to shift twice more, once to save Zevran from an unexpected blow from a hurlock, and another time to keep Aedan safe when he'd gone down beneath the onslaught of the dragon. As a result, she was feeling more exhausted now than she wanted to admit to; she wasn't sure how much strength she would have left to fight the archdemon with, but she didn't see what choice she had, not if she wanted to keep as many people as possible alive, so she said nothing to the others, doing her best to hide her weariness.

Once the courtyard was finally clear, they made their way through the doors and into the fort itself. The first few rooms were deserted; there was nothing there but the corpses of both darkspawn and the soldiers that had tried to stop them from entering. In fact, the front hall was so littered with bodies that they had to pick their way through carefully, or risk tripping over one.

It was much the same through the next few rooms as well, as they went deeper into the fort, trying to find the stairs that would lead up to the roof. They didn't find a single soldier alive in any of the rooms, and only a few darkspawn in most of the lower area. Ayla didn't want to admit it to the others, and especially not to Alistair, but there was a part of her that was savagely pleased to see the fate that had befallen Fort Drakon. She had to admit, if she'd had the chance to come back, she would have left the fort in much the same condition for their involvement in Alistair's torture, so she couldn't find it in her heart to feel any sadness for the fallen.

They eventually found their way to the upper level of the fort, an area that none of them had seen the last time they were here. Unlike the lower area, which was mainly offices, cells and the torture chambers, this upper area appeared to be mainly a barracks, with rooms for the soldiers, kitchens, and a training centre. They found several more isolated groups of darkspawn up here, though none as difficult as the battle they'd faced in the courtyard below, especially as the rest of the troops that could be spared had finally caught up to them, following them through the fort.

At long last, they entered a room that had a long set of stairs in the corner leading up to a closed door. Ayla could tell that this had to be the door to the roof; both Aedan and Alistair looked pale and uncomfortable as soon as they'd entered the room, and they kept looking up at the roof. "Will you be okay to face it?" Ayla asked Alistair softly as they briefly halted in front of the stairs while Aedan gave instructions to the other warriors with them.

"I think I should be fine, this time," Alistair answered, taking a deep breath. "It's not as . . . overwhelming as it was down in the Deep Roads. Maybe because it's injured, I don't know."

Ayla nodded, relieved, though the pained way he looked still worried her a bit. "That's good. Try to focus on something else, anything else, but that sensation, okay?"

He nodded, squeezing her hand briefly before Aedan strode past them towards the door. "Everybody ready?" he asked, and they nodded, in spite of the fact that Ayla was sure they were all anything but ready.

Aedan opened the door and hurried through, drawing his sword, and they all raced through after him. The first thing Ayla noticed as the door opened were the screams; there must have still been soldiers up on the roof fighting, for they were just in time to see a man tossed past the opening of the entrance onto the roof. Ayla rounded the corner, coming out past the wall into the open area of the roof, just as the archdemon swung its tail through the air, scattering several men every which way, one of them flying right off the roof over the low wall that ringed it with a startled cry.

Before they'd even had time to advance on the archdemon, it was already attacking another soldier, biting down on him and flinging him aside, before breathing a strange purple fire at another group of men, setting them aflame as they ran, screaming. The archdemon whirled in a circle in the center of the roof, dealing damage every which way it turned, a horrifying, skeletal-looking dragon, two long horns on its head, spikes protruding from everywhere along its body, along with several dozen arrows that had apparently had little effect, other than to stick into it like a pincushion.

"How are we supposed to fight that?" one of the knights behind Ayla cried desperately.

Aedan was looking frantically around, and he must have spotted the same thing Ayla did, for he called out, "The ballistae! Man the ballistae, and fire everything you've got at the archdemon! Everybody else, just keep it busy!"

With that, Aedan charged straight towards the archdemon, Alistair at his side, and the rest of the warriors behind them scattered. Some followed the Wardens towards the archdemon, while others went to the half-dozen ballistae set up on raised sections of the roof, likely meant to be fired out onto the streets below, and not back towards the center of the roof. Ayla, meanwhile, began to look for a way to get herself onto the archdemon's back, trying to ignore the desperate screams of the wounded and dying around her as the archdemon continued to wreak havoc.

She finally found a suitable section of the roof, one of the raised areas where a ballista rested, close enough to the archdemon that she should be able to leap to its back. Not giving herself any more time to think about it, she charged forward, shifting as she leapt, and just barely managed to land on the center of the archdemon's back.

The archdemon let out an unholy shriek, shaking itself and trying to dislodge her, but she'd hooked her claws in as soon as she'd landed, and refused to let go. She quickly and grimly crawled her way forwards, hooking her claws in with every step, moving as fast as she could, not wanting to give the archdemon a chance to reach around and grab her. She just barely got out of the way of its snaking neck in time, as it tried to bite at the spot where she'd been. Fortunately, at that moment, one of the projectiles from the ballistae struck the archdemon in the side, causing it to roar and turn its attention away from her. In the next moment, it had lifted up into the air, trying to fly away from the continued projectiles, but due to the wing damage caused by Riordan earlier, it was only able to fly a short distance before it had to land on another area of the roof.

In the meantime, Ayla had finally managed to crawl her way up to its neck, thanking the Goddess more than once for hooked claws that had kept her from falling during the archdemon's flight. Seeing her target, she clamped her teeth down hard around the dragon's neck, just behind its head, locking her jaws together as tightly as she could. The archdemon roared again, beginning to buck and thrash in earnest, but she held on stubbornly, trying to rake its neck with her hind paws as much as she could.

She heard shouting below, and was able to glance down briefly as the archdemon shook its head from side to side to see that Aedan and Alistair had caught up with it again, swinging at the dragon's legs. Zevran was attempting to fire arrows at the dragon's eyes along with a group of Dalish archers, though a few narrowly missed her as its head moved around continuously. She was determined to hold on as long as she could, keeping her front paws hooked in and her jaw clamped tightly in place, but she could feel her strength starting to wane.

She'd shifted too much and fought too much earlier; she didn't have enough stamina and strength left to keep this up for much longer, she knew. She could feel the weariness in her body, the aches and pains starting to shoot through her as a warning sign that she should shift back as soon as she could. She knew she should let go, knew she should shift back, but the ballistae weren't firing yet; they still needed time to redirect. She could hold on for just a bit longer, to give them as much time as they could, she decided.

She'd heard the first twang of the redirected ballistae and was just about to see if she could get down safely when the archdemon suddenly changed its tactics. It whipped its head straight back and then forward as hard as it could, and she went flying as her weary body suddenly gave out on her. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to stop her, and she didn't know which way was up or down as she tumbled end over end through the air. Before she'd had time to think or gather herself, her body too numb and exhausted to try a proper landing, she crashed hard into something, and with a burst of blinding pain, her world went black.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darkspawn had started appearing on the roof not long after Ayla had landed on the archdemon's back. Alistair suspected that it had called for reinforcements after realizing that it was in trouble. He'd been trying hard to focus on anything but the sound of its voice trying to weave through his head, however, so he couldn't be sure what it was saying. Still, whether it had called for them or not, dozens of darkspawn began to arrive on the roof, attacking anyone they could find.

He and Aedan barked out orders for some of the soldiers to cover the men manning the ballistae, to make sure they had time to aim and launch at the archdemon, and directed others to keep the archdemon off of the two of them, the mages, and the archers, who were all firing at the archdemon with everything they had.

When it lifted off and flew a few feet away, he and Aedan raced after it along with some of the others, and renewed their attack. Alistair didn't know if he was imagining it, but he thought the feel of it and the sound of its voice were growing weaker, where they lingered in the back of his mind. He'd been trying to attack its legs, but feeling the sensation of a few darkspawn coming up from behind, he turned his attention to them, trying to keep them off of Aedan, Zevran, and the other archers that were focused on the archdemon.

He'd just turned back around from defeating the three hurlocks that had tried to attack from behind when he saw what he'd most feared; Ayla had been thrown loose from the archdemon's neck. He watched with baited breath, terrified that she would go right off the roof, and was momentarily relieved when he realized she'd fall short, until she crashed full-force into the low wall that ringed the roof, falling down limply onto the ground below, unmoving.

He desperately wanted to race right to her side, to make sure she was alive, but he could see a couple more darkspawn coming towards them, and knew he wouldn't have time. He had to keep them off Aedan; the archdemon had just been struck in either side by two more ballistae bolts, and it was weaving back and forth as it roared, bleeding badly, its neck a shredded mess where it had thrown Ayla off. Aedan was racing forward, greatsword out, to take advantage of its wounded state, and he had to make sure that his brother had enough time to finish this.

So in spite of his misgivings and the abject terror gripping his heart, Alistair moved to defend Aedan's back, fighting off the two genlocks moving to intercept his fellow Warden. He stopped their advance while Aedan ran forward, sliding in just under the archdemon's mouth, and raked the tip of his greatsword all the way along the underside of its neck. One more projectile struck the middle of its back at the same time, and the archdemon shrieked again, rearing up before it collapsed back to the ground. Aedan had rolled out of the way of its neck before it fell, and leapt up as soon as the archdemon's head struck the ground, shoving the point of his sword down into the shredded mess Ayla had left at the base of its head, twisting hard as he pushed down.

In the next second just after Aedan struck, a blinding beam of white-hot light shot up from where Aedan's sword was buried in the archdemon's neck, streaking up into the sky as Aedan held grimly on, before it suddenly exploded outwards in a burst of massive energy. Alistair felt the shockwave hit him seconds later, knocking him flat to his back along with the one genlock that had still been alive, as the force of the explosion rolled outwards from the roof.

Dazed, his head ringing and buzzing from the wave of energy, it took Alistair a moment to gather himself enough to sit up. It took another few seconds for him to gain his feet, and as soon as he did, he dealt the finishing blow to the genlock next to him that had also been struggling to get up. It took him another few seconds to realize that he no longer felt the presence of the archdemon, or heard the sound of its voice.

He looked around him, noting that the archdemon lay unmoving on the ground, Aedan's sword still stuck in its neck. Aedan lay flat on the ground next to it, and all around them on the roof, soldiers and darkspawn were struggling to their feet; apparently the blast of energy had knocked everyone down. The few darkspawn still alive, however, were running as soon as they gained their feet, though most of them were struck down as they went. Satisfied that it was over and he was finally free to do as he liked, Alistair ran first to Aedan's side, just to make sure he was still alive and that Morrigan's spell had worked.

A quick check of his fallen brother revealed that although Aedan hadn't gotten back up like the others, he _was_ still alive, merely unconscious. He was breathing evenly, and didn't appear to have any grievous wounds, so Alistair left him there for the moment, scrambling frantically over to the wall where Ayla had fallen.

He prayed desperately and fervently as he ran over there, faster than he'd ever moved in his plate armor before, for her to be fine and merely unconscious as Aedan was. He dropped to his knees as soon as he reached her, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest as he carefully checked her. She'd obviously shifted back after hitting the wall, for it was her own body laying there on the stone of the roof, not that of the panther. One of her arms was twisted at a sick angle, and there was blood on her abdomen and matting the hair on her forehead. He checked her frantically, looking her over for any signs of life, but he couldn't see any indication that she was breathing, no sign that her chest was rising and falling as Aedan's had been, and at the realization, his heart shattered.


	56. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair must deal with the aftermath of the battle with the archdemon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some appropriate lyrics for the chapter:  
> Without you I can see  
> I would be just another  
> Sad junkie, mindless freak  
> Losing sleep dying slowly

Chapter 55: Without You

The howl of utter grief and despair must have come from him, but Alistair didn't remember making it as he tentatively lifted her limp body into his arms, cradling her on his lap. Pain was ripping him to pieces on the inside, white-hot and so violent he felt like the archdemon had raked him open from top to bottom. Could they have really come so close, fought so hard, and finally succeeded only for him to lose everything now? Could fate – could the Maker – really be so cruel?

"Don't leave me," he begged her, his voice broken and hollow even to his own ears as he rocked with her. "I – you – you said you'd marry me, that I'd have you always. We were supposed to – I – I can't do this without you. I _need_ you. This can't happen, not now, not when we were so close! If anybody was going to die, it was supposed to be _me_! Maker, _**please**_! Anything but this!"

"She is not dead!" a voice snapped indignantly above him. Alistair looked up, blinking through the tears he hadn't realized were dripping down his face, to see Zevran standing above him, the elf's face set in angry, grieved lines. "She cannot be, she would not be so weak! Give her to me!"

If he'd had any fight left in him, Alistair would have protested, but he didn't. He was numb with the pain, the grief, and the soul-crushing, heart-wrenching despair of losing her, so he merely handed her over to Zevran when the elf knelt in front of him. With surprising tenderness, the elf laid her down on the stone between them before pressing his ear to her chest. After a few seconds, Zevran straightened up, pulling a gleaming dagger out of his armor, and held it just above Ayla's open mouth. Even in his near-hysterical state, Alistair noticed the faint fog that passed across the dagger after a few seconds, though he couldn't quite seem to process what it meant at the moment.

Zevran sagged backwards, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again, relief stamped across his face. "She is still alive. I _knew_ she was stronger than that. She _is_ breathing, though it is so faint as to hardly be noticeable."

Alistair stared at him for a moment, stunned, hardly daring to believe that he'd heard the elf right. Sweet, blessed relief trickled through his pained, numb body, followed quickly by a sudden panic. She was alive, but just barely, and that could still change at any moment. "WYNNE!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "MORRIGAN!" He knew that Morrigan had said she would leave after the battle, but he was willing to bet that she'd stayed long enough to make sure Aedan was all right.

Twisting around to look behind him, even as he shouted, he could see that he'd been right; the witch was crouched next to Aedan's body, checking on him, though her head jerked up at the sound of her name. She looked over at him and Zevran, and in the next moment, she was on her feet, racing over to them. "Out of the way, you fool!" she snarled as she reached them, but Alistair was already moving.

He scrambled out of her way, ignoring the insult and the tone of voice, not caring about anything right now except the fact that the witch had the ability to save her. Morrigan knelt down where he'd been, muttering some spell as she laid a hand on Ayla's chest, the hand suddenly flaring with a blue light. "She is still alive, though barely," Morrigan muttered, her eyes flicking back and forth as though looking at something no one else could see. "But I do not understand – her injuries should not be so bad as to cause this state. She has a few broken ribs, yes, a dislocated arm, a small puncture wound on her abdomen, and she must have struck her head; I cannot tell quite how bad the head injury is – but even still . . ." the witch shook her head. "It is as though she has no strength left in her body to fight off the effects of the injuries – I do not –" she paused suddenly, her head jerking up. "How many times did she use her abilities?"

Alistair paled, worry slicing through him as he remembered Ayla telling him that overuse of her powers could lead to exhaustion and being unable to move. "I – I don't-" he shook his head, trying to remember how many times she'd used them throughout the long night of battle. "Once against the archdemon, and once to save me from one of the generals . . ."

"Once to save me, as well," Zevran supplied quietly, his face wracked with guilt, "and another time in the same battle as we were trying to enter the fort, to save Aedan."

"Ah, sister, how foolish and reckless of you," Morrigan murmured, shaking her head. "She will need rejuvenation magic, as well as ordinary healing, if there is any hope of her surviving. Find the old woman," she snapped at Alistair, who was already leaping to his feet, "and you, elf, I will need –"

"Lyrium?" Zevran finished for her, producing a potion from his pouch. "I took it off the body of a mage," he explained, shrugging at Morrigan's look of surprise. "She did not need it anymore."

"Yes," Morrigan nodded, taking the potion from Zevran, "but I will require more than this. Find as much as you can, anywhere you can." The elf nodded, jumping to his feet as well, racing away across the roof.

Alistair followed suit as he heard Morrigan start chanting again behind him, weaving his way along the roof among the dead, wounded, and those still on their feet as quickly as he could, keeping an eye out for Wynne everywhere he went. _Please let her be okay_ , he pleaded silently, not sure what he would do if he found that Wynne hadn't made it, or was unable to help right now.

He nearly tripped over his own feet, stumbling to a halt in relief, when he found Wynne all the way across the roof, just straightening to her feet after healing a wounded Dalish elf. "Wynne," he gasped, gripping the mage by the shoulders, "please, I need you. You have to come, quickly."

Wynne frowned, nodding even as she gently dislodged his hands. "Of course I will, Alistair, but whatever is the matter?"

"It's Ayla," he explained hastily, already tugging Wynne after him as he went back the way he'd come, detailing everything that had happened so far; how they'd found her and what Morrigan had said. "Please, Wynne, you can save her, can't you?" he begged her after he'd finished, as he spotted Morrigan in the distance, still kneeling by Ayla. "If – if she doesn't make it – I don't – I couldn't –"

"Relax, Alistair," Wynne said quietly, reaching up to pat his shoulder as they hurried along. "I know what she means to you, and I assure you I will do everything in my power. Besides, she is a strong young woman; I am certain she will be fine, with a little help."

"I hope you're right," he muttered fervently. Surely, if she had survived this long, there was no way that she'd succumb to her injuries now that both Wynne and Morrigan were here to help, was there?

"Listen, Alistair, I do hate to bring this up right now," Wynne began slowly as they continued moving, "but if Aedan is unconscious, you need to take command of the soldiers up here, and tell them what needs to be done. They need a leader, and you're the only one who can do it. I know you want to stay with Ayla right now," she interrupted him when he went to protest, "but there's nothing you can do for her."

They had reached Ayla and Morrigan by this point; Wynne gathered up her robes before kneeling down on Ayla's other side, opposite the witch, whose eyes were closed as both her hands glowed with energy, spreading healing magic throughout Ayla's body. "I know you're worried about her," Wynne went on calmly, her voice low and soothing, "but you can't help her. You can help those people, though, and find somewhere for her and the other wounded to rest after we are finished."

Alistair stared at her, wanting to protest, but he knew that Wynne was right and the only thing he could do right at this minute was help everybody _but_ Ayla. He wasn't a healer. If only, he thought suddenly, he'd agreed to that life-mate bond of hers. If he had, he could be giving her some of his own strength right now. But he hadn't; he'd let his doubts cloud him, and now, there was nothing he could do for her but make sure she had a bed to rest in if the two mages succeeded in healing her.

"She is right, my friend," Zevran said quietly, suddenly reappearing at his side. The elf dumped a half-dozen lyrium potions next to the two mages, as Wynne began chanting a spell of her own, laying her hands over Ayla as well. "There is nothing more you or I can do for her. What are your orders?"

Alistair blinked, taking a deep breath to try and focus himself. He turned his back, unable to concentrate when he was looking at Ayla's limp form, and instead stared out over the soldiers gathered on the roof, thinking hard. "All right," he said at last, "can you go back to the city gates and find out how Sten and the others are, and if they've got any able-bodied soldiers left down there who can help transport the wounded?"

The elf nodded. "Leave it to me; I will return with anyone I can find." So saying, Zevran trotted away across the roof, back towards the door they'd used to come up.

So began some of the longest and worst hours of Alistair's life. Ignoring every instinct of his heart that wanted to remain with Ayla, watching every breath she took, he directed the soldiers on the roof instead. He ordered a handful of Redcliffe knights who'd suffered only minor wounds to make their way to the palace and see if there was anyone still alive in there that might be able to offer them shelter. The remaining soldiers that were still mobile were ordered to separate the wounded and the dead, to pile the darkspawn dead in a corner to be burned later, and to lay out the bodies of those who had fought with them so that respects could be paid to them properly when there was time.

The wounded he ordered laid out by Ayla, and any mages still alive that possessed healing skills began working on those that could still be saved. He also ordered that the bodies of the dead be searched for any healing potions or herbs that could be used on the wounded. As Zevran had pointed out, the dead no longer had any use for them, and if they could possibly save the lives of others, it would be worth it. He himself searched a few bodies and came up with three healing potions that he passed off to those tending the wounded.

By the time that was done, two of the knights he'd sent down to the palace had returned, telling him that the castle had opened its gates. Anora had apparently been inside, having not left the city as she had planned to before word of the advancing darkspawn army had reached Denerim, and she'd had several soldiers and servants holed up in the castle with her. "Her Majesty is sending men and supplies up to aid us, ser," one of the knights concluded. "She says that the palace will be open to the wounded and all those seeking shelter so that we might rest."

"That's good news," Alistair replied, nodding at the men. "Thank you." _It means a bed for her to rest in_. "See if you can find anything to make stretchers with, so that we can move the wounded down there."

"Yes, ser!" Both knights snapped salutes before hurrying off to check over the roof for any more supplies.

Morrigan came up to him a few moments later, as he was helping another soldier move a still-unconscious Aedan away from the archdemon's body and over by the others that had been wounded. "How is she?" he demanded as he carefully set Aedan down, nodding at the soldier to dismiss him.

Morrigan smiled, her face looking drawn and weary, but triumphant. "She has stabilized. The old woman says she will be fine, once she wakes up, though that may take a day or two. Her body has much trauma and exhaustion to recover him."

"Thank the Maker." Alistair closed his eyes, suddenly feeling as though he could breathe properly again, as though his heart had finally returned to his chest, battered but beating once more. He opened his eyes, meeting Morrigan's gaze as he said sincerely, "And thank _you_ , Morrigan, really. I owe you so much now, for that and for – this." He gestured at Aedan, then back at the archdemon. "Honestly, I'm sorry that I-"

"Stop." She held up her hand, halting the flow of his words. "You owe me nothing. 'Twas all done for my own reasons, and you had ample reason to mistrust me. Just . . . see to it that you take good care of my sister."

"I – I will, I swear," he promised her hastily, surprised at the heartfelt sincerity in Morrigan's words, and that for once, she didn't take the opportunity to insult him. "What about Aedan, though? Will he be okay?"

She nodded, looking down at Aedan with an unexpected softness in her expression. "He will. He was merely knocked unconscious from being so close to that wave of energy when it exploded. He suffers from no wounds; he should awaken soon. I must leave before he does."

"What?" Alistair frowned, staring at her. "Don't you want to wait until he wakes up and say goodbye to him before you leave?"

She shook her head. "I have already said all that I need to. And were I to remain, he would undoubtedly try to talk me out of leaving. He might even succeed, so I must go now."

"All right," Alistair nodded. He could see her point; if there was one thing Aedan was most definitely good at, it was talking circles around people until he had them doing what he wanted. "Then – thank you, again."

She waved him off dismissively as she began to walk away, calling back over her shoulder, "Tell Ayla that I will see her again!"

"I will!" he shouted after her. Turning, he hurried over to Ayla just to check on her once more before resuming his duties. Wynne had moved to healing some of the other wounded, so Ayla lay by herself where he had left her. He was relieved to see her arm back at its normal angle, her chest rising and falling in a recognizable rhythm now. Sucking in a shaky, relieved breath, he kissed her forehead gently before he straightened, going back to help the others. There was still much to be done.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Take the Maker-damned potion, Alistair, or so help me, I will make you," Aedan growled, glaring at him, the sleeping potion in question gripped tightly in one of his hands.

Alistair looked up at his brother wearily. It was two days now since the fight with the archdemon, and Ayla had still not awakened; he sat by her bedside in the room that had been given to the two of them by Aedan's orders. The palace was crowded with recovering soldiers and refugees, but their companions had been granted some of the best rooms in the palace to share amongst themselves due to their role in the battle, and no one had protested. He had barely left Ayla's bedside since Aedan had awoken and taken over leading the remaining soldiers. He'd only left a few times to tend his own needs, and that only when someone else had been there to watch her; Zevran, or Leliana, or Wynne, or Oghren.

He had also hardly slept in the last two days, getting maybe a half-hour's sleep at most before nightmares inevitably jerked him awake. He was beyond exhausted, yet he refused to take the sleeping potion that Wynne had made for him and Aedan had been periodically demanding he drink over the last day. He was gripped by an irrational fear that if he allowed himself to sleep properly before Ayla finally opened her eyes, that something would happen to her. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't shake it, and it appeared Aedan was finally running out of patience for his stubbornness.

"You actually think you can make me?" he asked Aedan quietly, but there was an edge of steel in his tone. No matter how irrational and stubborn he was being, he would not give in on this point, not for anyone.

"Normally? No. Right now, though? Yes, and that's exactly the problem, Alistair." Aedan sighed, shaking his head. "I'm worried about you, brother, that's all. You're exhausted; you've barely slept in the past two days, and none of us slept much at all in the week or so before that. You're making yourself sick, and I can't watch you do it anymore. Please, Alistair, just take it. You need the sleep."

"I know I do," Alistair replied softly, touched at Aedan's concern, but still unwilling to yield, "and thank you for worrying about me, but . . . I can't. Not until she wakes up."

"Alistair . . . she's not going to die just because you get some sleep," Aedan snapped, obviously exasperated. "Do you think Wynne would have said she was going to be fine if she wasn't? Or that Morrigan would have left if she didn't think Ayla was going to be all right? You sleeping or not sleeping is not going to affect her health in any way, but it will affect yours! You –"

"I know I'm being irrational," Alistair interrupted him, "but I can't help it. I – every time I fall asleep, I see her lying there again, only this time, she's really dead. And I can't – I just – I need to see her and talk to her again before I take the potion. Please, Aedan."

"You know the potion makes it so you don't have nightmares," Aedan pointed out. When Alistair didn't answer him, he threw his hands up. "Fine! I'll give you a few more hours. If she hasn't woken up by this afternoon, though, you'll be taking that potion, whether you want to or not, understand?"

Alistair nodded, relieved Aedan had conceded the point for now, and after another moment, Aedan set the potion down on the table in their room, by the water jug and Alistair's half-eaten breakfast, before he left. Alistair turned back to watch Ayla, hoping that she would open her eyes soon; Wynne had been fairly certain it would happen today, now that her body had had some time to recover. He needed to see her awake again, to finally shake that last, lingering doubt that maybe she wouldn't survive, before he could truly relax, no matter how heavily exhaustion was weighing on his body and dragging at his eyelids, trying to close them. He just wanted to see the sparkle in her eyes, see her smile, hear her voice, before he finally gave in.

He must have drifted off again, for he found himself jerking abruptly awake, the mocking sound of the archdemon's voice ringing in his ears, his head lifting from the side of the bed where he'd laid it. He sucked in a few deep breaths, his body trembling, before he looked up, meeting Ayla's green eyes, wide open as she stared back at him from where she was sitting up at the head of the bed. She smiled when his gaze met hers, her smile falling over him like sunlight breaking free on a cloudy day. "Alistair, you're all right."

"Of course I'm all right. It was you that almost –" he halted, unable to voice just how close he'd come to losing everything. He gripped the blanket in front of him tightly in both fists, trying to steady himself, taking a few more shaky breaths.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I must have frightened you badly," she said softly, studying him carefully. Though she was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair mussed from days in bed, he didn't doubt that he looked worse, for there was a steadily growing concern in her eyes.

"You did," he admitted. Ordinarily he wouldn't have stressed her further with this, but he was so exhausted at the moment that he couldn't help but tell her everything he was feeling. "I honestly thought this time that you were really dead, and I couldn't – I – I can't even describe how devastating it was, how I felt when I thought I'd lost you."

"Did it feel like you couldn't breathe? Like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and wasn't there anymore?" He blinked at her, surprised that she'd put it into words so perfectly, and nodded slowly. She smiled sadly. "You forget, I thought you were dead once before, too. I never meant to put you through the same thing, Alistair. I just wanted to make sure that everybody would be okay. I'm so sorry, really. Come here." She gestured to him to join her on the bed.

He hesitated only for a second before his urge to touch her won out over his concern that he would somehow hurt her. He crawled up onto the bed, making his way carefully to her side, and when she opened her arms to him, he willingly slid into them, resting his head in the crook of her neck, slipping his arms around her cautiously. "I'm not going to break if you touch me, you know," she whispered in his ear.

He drew in a shuddering breath from her words, from the pure, blinding, dizzying relief of having her warm and alive in his arms, feeling tears burning at his eyes and clogging his throat. "Maker, love, please don't be so reckless again. I really can't do this without you. I just – don't leave me, please?"

He felt her soft hand stroke gently over his head, sliding through his hair, for he hadn't lifted his head from the warmth of her body. She was only in her smallclothes and breastband right now, leaving him blessedly free to feel the softness of her skin wherever he touched her. "I would never leave you, not willingly, you know that," she told him, her voice firm. "I will always hold on as hard as I can to come back to you, I promise you."

"Good," he said softly, fervently. One awful, bleak glimpse of what life would be like without her was all he ever wanted to see. "And it's a yes, by the way."

"A yes?" Her voice sounded slightly puzzled above his head, her hand never ceasing its soothing motion. "For what?"

"For the life-mate bond." He lifted his head, looking up to meet her eyes squarely, certainly. If it meant he could give strength to her if she ever needed it again, or that he would be able to sense when she was pushing herself too far, he would do it; he would do anything. "Yes, I want to do it."

She frowned. "Alistair, are you sure? You're not exactly thinking clearly right now –"

"I'm sure," he interrupted her. "I've thought it over, and I was already thinking of saying yes, but what happened only made me positive it was the right decision. So as soon as you're strong enough –"

"As soon as _we're_ strong enough," she cut him off gently, a scolding edge in her tone as she searched his face. "How long have you gone without sleeping properly?"

He sighed, dropping his gaze from her perceptive one. "I've slept a bit, here and there."

"Alistair, how many days has it been?" she demanded pointedly.

"Two, since the fight with the archdemon," he admitted at last, reluctantly. "Every time I tried to sleep, I'd have nightmares, so I just . . . stayed awake."

"Wynne has a potion for dreamless sleeping. I used it before, when you were in Fort Drakon. Why didn't you take that?" she asked quietly, concern lacing her tone.

"I needed to see you wake up first," he replied, looking up again. "I just . . . . couldn't shake the feeling that something might happen if I let my guard down before you woke up. I know it was stupid and irrational, but I couldn't help it." He shrugged.

"Goddess, Alistair." She cradled his cheek gently, leaning down to brush her lips over his, making a sweet warmth steal through him at the touch. "I am so sorry for worrying you, but I swear I feel fine now. Actually, I feel surprisingly good, aside from being hungry and thirsty. So please, take the potion now. For me?"

"Maker, of course you're hungry and thirsty!" He shook his head, cursing himself for not thinking of at least grabbing her water as soon as she woke up, as he slid from her embrace and off the bed.

"Alistair, I can get it!" she protested as he crossed over to the table.

"No." He poured her a cup of water from the jug, and placing it on the tray of his half-eaten breakfast, carefully brought it over and laid it across her lap. "Here, have this."

She met his gaze sternly. "The sleeping potion, Alistair. I'll eat and drink, but you have to take the potion. Just lay down next to me, and I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?" When he hesitated, she went on, "Otherwise I won't take this. Not until you sleep."

"You're just stubborn enough to do it, too, aren't you?" He grinned in spite of himself at the familiar set of her jaw, and the overall ridiculousness of the situation.

She laughed softly. "As stubborn as you are, it would seem. But I am serious."

"All right, love." He bent down to kiss her gently once more. "I know when I'm beat." He went back over to the table, scooping up the vial, before returning to the bed and crawling in next to her. He kicked off the leather boots he wore as he did so, but didn't bother removing his tunic and breeches. He took the stopper out of the vial, glancing over at her.

"Go ahead," she urged him softly. "I'm not leaving."

He nodded before he finally drank the potion, giving in at last to his body's desperate need for sleep. She was alive, and she wasn't leaving him, and that was all he needed to know.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ah, my dear, you're awake! How are you feeling?" Zevran smiled at Ayla as he entered the room, no more than an hour after Alistair had fallen asleep. He crossed the room to sit in the chair Alistair had occupied previously, next to the right side of the bed where she was currently sitting.

Alistair was on the other side of her, his face half-buried in the pillow, one arm flopped over top of her legs after she'd returned to the bed from setting the tray back down on the table. She wouldn't have minded going to get a little more food, but she hadn't wanted to leave the room on the off chance he might wake up while she was gone. She had, after all, promised to be there when he woke up, and given how badly she'd shaken him previously, she fully intended to keep that promise. "I feel fine, actually; maybe a little weaker than normal, but otherwise good." It was true; whatever had been wrong with her was fully healed now. She smiled at him, glad to see that he, too, was alive and well, before she continued softly, "Not so loud, though, you'll wake Alistair."

"I sincerely doubt it," Zevran replied, shrugging. "He finally took our lovely mage's potion, yes?" When she nodded, he went on, "Wynne tells me she made it extra potent, as he was having such trouble with nightmares. I doubt anything will wake him up for quite some time."

"Oh." She looked down at Alistair, at how peaceful and relaxed he looked right now. He'd looked so tormented and exhausted earlier when he'd jerked awake in the chair, before he'd seen that she was awake, that it tore at her heart even now to think of it. Of course she hadn't hurt him on purpose, but she still couldn't help feeling guilty over it. "How bad was it? I mean . . . what happened after the archdemon threw me off?"

"I did not see it happen," Zevran said softly. "I had my back turned by then, trying to cover one of the ballistae so it might fire. By the time it did, you were no longer on its head, and I was just in time to see Aedan finish it off. There was a blast of energy that knocked everyone on the roof down. By the time I got back up, it was to see Alistair find you, and, well . . ." He shook his head sombrely. "It is not something I wish to ever witness again, your Warden's reaction."

Ayla closed her eyes briefly, feeling pain lance through her at the thought of how Alistair must have felt. "He really thought I was dead?"

"He did, yes, but to be fair, there was no outward sign that you were yet breathing, and I doubt he was thinking clearly. It was I who noticed you were still alive, when I checked a bit more closely, since I refused to accept that you might have died." He smiled ruefully at her. "My own feelings on the matter are not something I ever wish to experience again, either."

"I am so sorry, Zevran. I honestly wasn't trying to be reckless, I was just trying to buy everyone time. I was just about to get down when the archdemon threw me off and I . . . didn't have the strength to land properly," she admitted reluctantly. "I fell instead, and the fall must have injured me badly."

"You were injured, yes," Zevran agreed, "but Morrigan believed that the larger issue was the overuse of your powers, that you did not have the strength to battle your injuries, as it were. Had Wynne not been there as well with her rejuvenation spells, you may not have made it at all. So please, my dear, you must not push yourself so hard. For the sake of your Warden, myself, and everyone else. You are dear to all of us."

"Thank you, Zev." She smiled tremulously at him, her heart warmed by his words, even as she felt renewed guilt at worrying everyone so much. It was really the last thing she'd meant to do. "I will be more careful in the future, I swear. And thank you, as well, for not accepting that I was dead."

He smiled back at her, leaning forward to take her hand in his and squeeze it gently. "You are most welcome, Ayla. I could not, after all, accept that my goddess would die so easily. Now, is there anything you need before I leave? I only meant to stop for a quick check to see how you were; I have duties to carry out for our fearless leader." He rolled his eyes at her, making her laugh softly.

"Well," she said hesitantly, "if you would not mind, I could use a little more food. I would go get it myself, but just in case he does wake up, I should be here."

"Of course, my dear, anything you need." He stood up, squeezing her hand once more before he let it go. "I will send someone with more food than you can possibly eat. Once you are feeling better, we must spar again, yes?"

She nodded. "Of course we will. And thank you, again, Zev, truly," she added as he reached the door.

He swept her a low bow. "You are most welcome. I did promise, as your friend, to get both you and your Warden through the Blight alive, did I not?" With that, he was gone, the door closed behind him before she could say another word.

She sighed, watching the door for another moment before she turned her attention back to Alistair, stroking his hair gently. She had found so much more here than she had ever expected, or could ever have hoped for. She was incredibly relieved to find that she hadn't lost it all with her recklessness, and promised herself that this time, she would really work on not being so careless with her own safety. She didn't want to leave Alistair, or any of her friends, not before she was good and ready to go.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few days now since Ayla had awakened, and as much as she loved Alistair, he'd been driving her crazy over the past couple of days since he'd finally recovered as well. He'd hovered over her, as though he had to watch her every moment to be sure she still drew breath, and had treated her like she was a breakable figurine, insisting on doing everything for her and not allowing her to lift a finger if he could help it.

She'd managed to keep herself from losing her patience with him, though, because she knew how badly she'd worried him and how shaken he'd been. Still, she was glad that Aedan had asked him to go out on a patrol to find some darkspawn that had still been lingering around Denerim, giving her a moment to breathe. It had taken a bit of talking to convince him that she'd be fine and wouldn't leave the castle if he went out, but between her and Aedan, they'd finally managed to persuade him.

Although, now that he'd gone out to do battle without her, she couldn't help worrying about him, ironically. It was just a few darkspawn, nothing he couldn't handle, and yet she would have felt so much better about being able to fight by his side. But she knew she would never have convinced him to let her go into battle so soon, and at this point, she'd probably be more of a hindrance than anything. Zevran had proved that to her just now in the training ring.

She'd been surprised to find while sparring with him that she was not feeling as strong as she'd thought she had been, nearly losing her footing or making a mistake more than once during the fight. She was still feeling a bit weak, and she obviously needed a bit more time and training to recover from her days of inactivity before she went into a real battle again. Still, it had felt good to stretch her muscles and fight once more; she would have to make a habit of it every day until she was back to herself.

Heading back to her room in the castle, she noticed Leliana walking ahead of her in the hallway. "Leliana!" she called, and the bard turned back to look at her with a smile, though it didn't seem to quite reach her eyes.

"Ayla, how are you feeling?" Leliana asked after she'd caught up, the two continuing to make their way through the castle, which was still bustling with refugees and reconstruction efforts.

"Well, apparently not quite as good as I thought," Ayla answered ruefully. "I put in a rather poor performance against Zevran while we were sparring. Still, it feels good to be on my feet again."

"I imagine it does," Leliana agreed. "We were all quite worried about you after the battle when we found out what happened, you know. I am relieved to see that you are well."

"Thank you, and I apologize for worrying you. But, Leliana –" Ayla pulled her friend aside into a secluded hallway, having noticed how subdued the bard appeared compared to normal, "Is there something you needed to talk about?"

"It's . . . it's nothing." Leliana shook her head, but when Ayla raised her eyebrows at her doubtfully, the bard amended, "I'm fine. I'm just thinking."

"So tell me. I'd like to help. I'm not good for much else at the moment, anyway, it would appear," Ayla said wryly.

"I know it is ridiculous, after everything that's happened to us over the last few weeks, but I can't seem to get what happened with Marjolaine out of my head," Leliana explained slowly, and Ayla nodded. She'd been wondering when this dam would break, and it made sense that it would happen now that the Blight was finally done, and there was so much more time to think than there had been for any of them before. "I'd been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her," Leliana continued, sadness lacing her words. "She didn't trust me. Maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use me and control me, and once she couldn't, she wanted me dead. It . . . it hurts to realize that I never really knew her."

"I'm so sorry, Leliana." Ayla put an arm gently around the bard's shoulders, unsure of what else to do in the face of her friend's obvious distress. She couldn't begin to imagine what she was going through. "I don't know what to say . . . is there anything I can do for you?"

Leliana smiled slightly at her, giving a small shake of her head. "You are already helping so much by listening to me. I knew she was ruthless, but I didn't know how far she could go. She was self-serving, cruel . . . she used people, then discarded them, but that's how she survived in the life she led. W-what if she was right?" There was sudden panic in the bard's tone as she met Ayla's gaze, wide-eyed. "What if I am the same? I . . . I should have just stayed in the Chantry."

"No, you shouldn't have," Ayla told her firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "You wanted to help and you did. We would never have made it through this without your help, without everyone's help. You're on the path that you're meant to be on, just like your vision told you. I am certain of that."

"But what if I was wrong?" Leliana demanded, pulling away to pace the hallway. "What if I become like her? I fear it's already happening. When we killed her, I . . . I enjoyed it. Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction." She hung her head in shame.

"If you're ruined, so am I," Ayla said simply, knowing the answer to this part, at least. "I had the exact same feeling after avenging my father. It's a normal reaction when someone hurts you that much – you shouldn't punish yourself, or feel guilty about it."

"But that is no reason to rejoice over her death. That is what she would do. I don't want that!" Leliana exclaimed, her hands trembling as she met Ayla's eyes again. "What we're doing . . . what we've done – hunted men down, killed them – part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I . . . I feel myself slipping."

Ayla crossed over to Leliana again, taking her hands and squeezing them as she said gently, "Don't worry about it. You're a good person and you always will be. If you were an evil person, you wouldn't be this distressed over what you'd done. Do you think those slavers we met in the Alienage, or Marjolaine for that matter, ever regretted what they were doing, or worried about it? No, because they were bad people. Sometimes, as good people, we may have to do things we don't want to, to make sure other people are safe. That doesn't make us bad. It just means we're doing what is necessary." That was a truth that Ayla had always believed in, and she only hoped she could convince her friend to believe in it as well, so that she would stop torturing herself with what she'd had to do.

Leliana stared at her for a long moment before she finally nodded. "That . . . that is true. I can always trust you to show me things from a different perspective. I would like to be alone, for now. I have many things to consider. Thank you for listening to me. It did really help – and if you ever need someone to listen to you, please allow me to do so."

"Of course. I'll come to you when I need to vent about Alistair being overprotective." Ayla winked at the bard, drawing a smile out of her. "And I'll always be willing to listen if you need to talk about anything. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Indeed," Leliana smiled softly at her. "Thank you, again." The bard left the hallway, and Ayla followed, continuing on in the direction of her own room, relieved that she'd been able to put Leliana's mind a little bit more at ease. Now if only she could do the same for Alistair.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ayla whistled cheerfully as she headed back to her room again a few days later. Since returning from his mission, Alistair had been much less overprotective of her, and indeed, nearly back to his normal self. She suspected that Aedan or someone must have had a talk with him and finally succeeded in reassuring him, and she was grateful for it. He hadn't even objected to her daily sparring sessions with Zevran to recover her strength.

That, too, was going much better, which was causing her current bout of cheerfulness. Today's session had ended with her knocking Zevran flat on his back – and he hadn't been taking it easy on her today, either. She finally felt like she was back to her previous strength, and it was a terrific feeling. Now she just needed to convince Alistair that she was strong enough for a different type of sparring session, she thought slyly. He'd been keeping her at a distance while she recovered, and she was more than ready for that to be done with.

She hadn't expected him to be in their room when she arrived; as it wasn't quite suppertime yet, she'd thought that he would still be helping Aedan with whatever he needed today. So she was surprised to open the door to their room and find him waiting at the table for her, along with food for the both of them. Not to mention, there were candles lit around the room, and – was that a bouquet of roses he was holding?

"Alistair, what is all this?" she asked slowly, closing the door behind her before walking over to the table.

He surprised her further when he got up from the table, handed her the roses, and got down on one knee. She blinked in shock when she realized he was holding a ring up to her; this had to be the ring he'd mentioned getting for her, which he'd yet to give her. It was a beautiful ring, she thought, a trifle dazed; it was a twisted band of shining silver, looping around two small emeralds with a blazing topaz right in the center.

"Ayla," he began softly as she stared at him, dumbfounded, "I've told you before that I'm yours, that I love you, and I meant it. With all my heart and soul, I'm yours, and I always will be. From the moment I met you, I was lost; I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and you actually found my jokes funny, which was more than I could have hoped for." She couldn't help laughing at that, and he smiled, his eyes glowing with a warm light as he continued, "I don't know what exact moment I fell in love with you, whether it was when I saw you dance, or the first time we kissed, or when you did your best to make me blush every time I turned around, but I do know you're the best thing that ever happened to me. You took what was a horrible, dark time in my life, and during it, you somehow made me happier than I'd ever been before – than I ever thought I could be. And I hope I do the same for you. I want – I _need_ – to have you in my life, because without you it would be half of a life. So I'll be yours, and you'll be mine, if you'll say yes again. Ayla Trichlor, will you be my wife, and my life-mate?"

Now she was the one blushing, and were those tears pricking at her eyes? How could she be feeling like she wanted to cry when she was happier than she'd ever been? "Yes, of course I will, Alistair. I told you that you didn't have to do any of this! I already said yes, I didn't need the speech, but . . . oh, Goddess." She set the roses aside before throwing herself at him, and he caught her easily with an arm around her waist as she fused her lips to his, clutching his head to hers as she poured all her love for him, all her happiness, into the kiss. She raised her head after a moment, meeting his now-darkened gaze. "You're so sweet, Alistair, I don't even know what to say! That was the most incredible thing anyone has ever said to me – and of _course_ you make me happier than I've ever been. I fought so hard against loving you because I was scared, but I think I've been lost, too, if not from the moment I met you, than certainly from the moment you gave me that rose. So yes. Yes to all of it, yes to everything. I'm yours, completely, always."

"Then I can count myself the luckiest man in Ferelden," he murmured, beaming down at her while he slipped the ring onto her finger, giving her a scorching kiss when he was done, one hand drifting over her body that sent flames springing to life all through her while he held her with the other.

"Bed, now," she growled against his mouth when he came up for air, nipping at his bottom lip hard. He moaned something that might have been a protest, but when she pressed her body flush against his, rubbing herself against him, and licked a trail to his ear, he stood up abruptly, bringing her with him. She smiled in victory, nibbling on his neck as he walked them over to the bed, falling onto it with her.

"What about the bonding ceremony?" he gasped as they rapidly tugged each other's clothes off, their lust burning hot, hard and fast through them. "When – oh Maker . . ."

She pulled her head back from his chest, where she'd just bit at his nipple while rocking her hips against his. "Later. We'll need to get some things ready first and we need to convince Wynne to help . . . ohhh, Alistair," she finished on a moan as he found his way beneath her smallclothes, stroking her until her back arched involuntarily.

"Yes, later," he groaned as he ripped her smallclothes the rest of the way off while she freed him from his. In the next moment, he'd buried himself within her, and soon, she was tumbling toward oblivion with him, with her love that would soon become her life-mate in truth, and she could only thank the Goddess for her good fortune, for still being alive and together with him.


	57. The Hero of Ferelden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aedan attends Anora's coronation and the celebration of the archdemon's defeat, and receives a surprise he'd never expected. Ayla and Alistair attempt the bonding ceremony.

Chapter 56: The Hero of Ferelden

"So, are you ready for your celebration, oh Hero of Ferelden?" Alistair was grinning teasingly at Aedan as he asked the question at the door to his room, causing Aedan to roll his eyes.

It was two weeks now since the battle with the archdemon, and Anora had decided that things had recovered to the point where a celebration could be held to bring morale up and to give the Fereldan citizens a reason to be happy and cheerful at long last. Therefore, she had decided that a parade through Denerim would be held to celebrate the victory over the archdemon, with Aedan at its head. Prior to the celebration, however, Anora's coronation would be held within the castle, to which the nobles and all the major players in the battle would be invited. His own coronation would not occur until after he and Anora wed, which would not be for a few weeks yet, but he still had the parade to deal with in the meantime. And to his dismay, Aedan had discovered that most of the credit for the victory was being given to him; apparently, the people of Ferelden had even gone so far as to give him the title of hero, and it was not a title he was overly fond of.

"Don't _you_ start calling me that," he told Alistair sternly. Bad enough he had to hear it from everyone else; he certainly wasn't going to take it from someone who had fought the archdemon at his side.

Alistair gave him a large, unrepentant grin as he shrugged, hands up. "Why not? It is one of your titles now, after all."

"Not one I've done anything to earn," Aedan retorted, retreating into his room to grab his sword and finish getting ready for the ceremony. Alistair followed him in, closing the door behind him as he waited. Aedan strapped his sword on, sighing. "I just – I don't understand why everyone seems to be giving me the credit. Yes, I dealt the final blow to the archdemon, but I certainly didn't fight it alone, nor did I even do the most damage to it."

"Well, maybe not, but it's not only about the archdemon, either," Alistair answered as Aedan went about applying the last few pieces of the largely ceremonial armor Anora had insisted he wear. When Aedan looked over at his Warden brother, raising an eyebrow in question, Alistair went on, "It's about everything. The Blight, the gathering of the army, the problems that were solved to get our allies to help – you led us through it all. _That's_ why they're calling you the hero, because you were at the head of it. And, I think, people find it easier to have one particular person to shower their gratitude on."

Aedan shook his head. "But I didn't do any of the rest of it alone, either. You and everyone else were there to help me every step of the way."

"Of course you didn't do it alone," Alistair agreed, "but the people don't know everyone involved, or what they did. They just know that you took command, confronted Loghain at the Landsmeet and outmanoeuvred him, led the army into battle, and dealt the final blow to the archdemon. That makes you a hero to them, so I say you should take the title and use it to do some good. It's not often a Warden gets made into a public hero; you can use that to make sure no one forgets about what we've done for them again."

Aedan stared at Alistair in surprise; he hadn't really thought about it that way, but now that his brother had put into words, he could see his point. As much as he didn't want the title of hero, it _did_ carry with it a lot of weight and influence, especially as he would be taking the throne. He could use that influence to make sure that no one forgot what they owed the Wardens, ever again, not to mention all the other good he could do for the various people of Ferelden. And he could see to it that the others all got the credit due them, starting with Alistair.

"You have a good point," he said at last. "I'll see what I can do with the title to benefit the Wardens and everyone else. But I still don't want you calling me that, or I'll hit you. Got it?"

Alistair grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, hero, I've got it." He laughed when Aedan shot him a glare, raising a gauntleted fist in his direction. "Last time, I swear."

"Right," Aedan drawled, suspecting that it would be far from the last time Alistair chose to tease him with the title, but he couldn't help grinning anyway. He was pleased to see him in such high spirits; during the battle, when Ayla had been thrown free of the archdemon, he had thought she might not survive, and had feared the devastating consequences that would have on Alistair. Seeing how his brother had been while she'd been recovering, before she'd awakened, he knew he'd been right; if she hadn't lived, Alistair would never have been the same. He might even have gone off and gotten himself killed.

Much to Aedan's relief, though, that hadn't happened. Aside from how it would have affected Alistair, he would have missed Ayla himself, not to mention how the others of their party would have felt. That all of his friends had managed to get through the battle intact was something that Aedan thanked the Maker for on a daily basis. And he was pleased for Alistair that everything had turned out so well for him; Alistair had informed him the other day that Ayla had accepted the ring Aedan had helped him pick out, and the two intended to get married soon, likely not long after his wedding to Anora. So it was no surprise to see him in such high spirits, in spite of all that had happened.

He strapped the last bit of the rather gaudy armor on; it was similar to Alistair's, but where his was gold, Aedan's was silver plate, accented with black and, in Aedan's opinion, topped with overly large pauldrons. In short, it was not something he would have ever worn into battle, and he doubted Alistair would have either; but Anora had insisted, saying that the Wardens should be outfitted in new armor befitting the occasion. From the sounds of it, she'd given all of their party new outfits, though it would only be himself, Alistair, Oghren and Sten that had new armor. Aedan supposed it would be difficult to find gleaming leather armor or something of the sort for the rest, so they had been given formal outfits or dresses to wear instead.

He gestured to the armor, asking Alistair in a resigned tone, "How does it look?"

"Well, it looks like it's on right, if that's what you're asking." Alistair shrugged when Aedan raised his eyebrows at him. "What? I'm not keen on it either, but you're the one who said we should wear it."

Aedan sighed. "Because it's a ceremony, and Anora insisted that as the guests of honour, we have to dress appropriately. And she's got a point, even if I don't like it."

"In that case, you look very ceremonially appropriate. Now can we go? We're going to be late at this rate." Alistair gestured to the door behind him.

"Yeah, let's go." Aedan headed toward the door, asking Alistair as they went through it and started down the hallway towards the main hall, "What's got you in such a hurry for this, anyway?"

"After Anora's coronation is done, I've got a surprise for you," Alistair informed him. Aedan must have looked slightly alarmed, because Alistair grinned and added, "Don't worry, it's a pleasant surprise, I promise."

"If you say so." Aedan followed him towards the ceremony, wondering just what sort of surprise was in store for him when he got there.

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Aedan watched from his place below the steps leading up to the throne as Anora knelt in front of the Revered Mother, receiving her blessing and swearing the oaths to officially take her place as Queen. She was wearing a pale blue dress of silk accented with gold, a golden girdle around her waist to create the high-waisted style that she favoured, and her hair was done up carefully in its braided buns. She looked beautiful, Aedan had to admit, even if she wasn't the woman he wished he could be looking at right now.

Finally, the Revered Mother finished her speech, settling the golden circlet on Anora's head before gesturing to her to rise and turn to greet the crowd of nobles and warriors waiting below. The crowd cheered wildly as Anora waved to them all, smiling brightly. When the cheering finally died down, she launched into a speech of her own as the Revered Mother descended the stairs to join the crowd.

"My friends," Anora called out, her voice ringing out clearly over the hall, "we are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege in Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation. The one who led the charge against the archdemon and killed it remains with us still, an inspiration to all he saved that day. Ladies and gentlemen, may I formally present my betrothed, Aedan Cousland, who shall soon be your king."

Taking his cue, Aedan went up the stairs towards her as the crowd cheered loudly behind him. He took Anora's hand, lifting it to his lips to press a lingering kiss there, bringing a light blush to her face. When he was done, he let her hand drop gently, giving her a cheeky grin when she frowned at him. Though they had spent a good deal of time together over the past couple of weeks, it had largely been concerned with official business, and little of it had been personal. This was likely the most he'd touched her in that time, and he'd thought that he might as well start remedying that, since they were getting married and all. Anora likely didn't agree with the timing of his decision, he realized, but her face softened at his grin. She had always been quick to forgive him, he reflected as he turned so that he was partially facing the crowd and partially facing her at the top of the stairs.

Anora gave him a slight, approving nod before she continued, her voice still loud enough to carry to the assembled crowd, "Aedan, it is hard to imagine how you could have aided Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favour. As a reward and an engagement present, I offer you a boon of your choice."

Aedan cast a quick glance towards Alistair, waiting at the front of the crowd below, who nodded at the look, before turning back to Anora. "I would request that the sacrifices of the Wardens never be forgotten again."

She smiled, nodding in agreement. "An excellent point. We can begin with a monument here in Denerim dedicated to your companion Riordan and all the other Grey Wardens who fell to save us. We should also collect scholars to learn more about the darkspawn. We'll face them again, here and with the dwarves." She turned fully now to the crowd below, declaring, "Let it also be known that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them." She turned back to Aedan, saying in a lower voice, "There is a group of eager Fereldan citizens waiting outside for their parade to start so they may get a look at their hero and king. I suggest you make an appearance before they storm the gate." She chuckled lightly at the slight frown he couldn't quite keep from his face. "Just tell the guard at the door when you are ready."

"Thank you, Anora," he murmured sincerely. They had discussed granting a small tract of land to the Wardens, rather than having them continue to operate out of a building in Denerim, but he'd never thought she would agree to give them an entire arling, so he hadn't brought it up. The fact that she'd decided to do it on her own was more than he'd ever expected.

She smiled gently up at him. "You are most welcome. Now, go on. I believe Alistair had a surprise for you before the parade."

"You're in on this surprise of his?" he asked her, shocked. True, the two of them had been getting on better than he had expected, considering Anora had viewed Alistair as a danger to her throne before, but he hadn't thought they would be friendly enough to conspire together.

"Just go already," she told him, an edge of both impatience and amusement in her voice, and he finally did as he was told, descending the stairs.

The crowd below had broken up, some going to the tables set up along the sides with food and drink, others gathering in groups to discuss matters, some sitting up on the balconies above, others leaving the castle to go see the parade. Alistair was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, and gestured to him to follow as he went away from the stairs towards the back of the hall. "What is this surprise?" Aedan demanded as he followed Alistair.

"Do you remember that mission you sent me out on after Ayla first woke up?" Alistair asked over his shoulder. Aedan nodded, wondering what this could have to do with anything. "Well, I found someone that I thought you'd like to see. He wanted a few days to clean up and get settled before you saw him, so in the end, we decided a surprise at the celebration would be best."

Aedan was trying to work out who Alistair could possibly be referring to; obviously it wasn't Morrigan, since he'd said 'he', but who else could Alistair have found? At that moment, Alistair stopped by the corner of one of the balcony walls, gesturing to a man in red-tinged armor of chain mail overlaid with plates, who turned just as they were approaching. When Aedan glimpsed his face, the reddish-brown hair and the small, neatly trimmed beard he recognized so well, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him; he could only stare in utter disbelief at the brother he'd thought long dead.

He barely registered Alistair saying that he'd leave the two of them alone to catch up before he walked away; he was still trying to gather his scattered wits. "Fergus?" he managed at last, his voice coming out in a croak. "Is that really you?"

As if he'd merely been waiting for him to speak, Fergus grinned widely before pulling Aedan into one of his crushing bear hugs. Aedan returned the embrace fiercely, swallowing back the lump of tears in his throat, still a little dazed at the turn of events. He'd accepted that he was alone, that all his family was gone; to have his older brother alive and well in front of him was far beyond what he could ever have hoped for or dreamed of. Well, perhaps not as well as he had been, Aedan admitted to himself as they pulled back at last, and he noticed that his brother's face was thinner, more lined, with dark circles under his eyes and a slightly haunted expression lingering under the joy of reunion. Still, that was only to be expected, all things considered.

"Of course it's really me, little brother," Fergus said, whacking him on the back of the shoulder. "Do you doubt your eyes?"

"Well, yes," Aedan admitted. "I've thought you dead for a year now; I assumed you'd died at Ostagar along with everyone else. If I had known . . . I swear I would have looked everywhere for you."

"I know you would have," Fergus assured him quietly, "but how could you possibly have known? At any rate, it sounds like you had far too much to do to be searching for me." He shook his head in wonder. "When I heard that my little brother was not only a Grey Warden but also leading Ferelden into battle? I was surprised, to put it mildly. Father . . . he would have been so proud of you. I know I am. You've done good."

Aedan stared at his older brother in astonishment. "Fergus, how can you say that? I failed you! I'm . . . I'm so sorry. You trusted me to look after Oren and Oriana, and I . . . by the time I killed the men that came for me and got to their room, it was too late. I didn't save them. I didn't manage to save anyone except myself," he finished with disgust. He'd thought he'd come more to terms with what had happened, but having to face Fergus and admit just how completely he'd failed in his duty to protect his family brought all his shame and disgust with himself boiling to the surface again.

"Stop it, Aedan," Fergus ordered him quietly, squeezing his shoulder. "It was _not_ your fault, and you didn't fail me. You did the best you could; no one could have known or guessed what Howe was planning to do. If anyone had, I would never have left with almost all of our troops that day. _You_ are not to blame," he continued firmly, as fury started to darken his face and creep into his voice. "That greedy, traitorous bastard Howe was the one to blame. I just wish I'd been there to help you kill him. At least Amaranthine now belongs to the Grey Wardens. There's some justice in that, I think."

Aedan took a shuddering breath, relief seeping into his body and easing some of his disgust with himself. Fergus didn't blame him, and while that didn't make him feel completely better, it did lighten some of the burden weighing on him. "I wish you'd been there too," he said softly. "I made him suffer for what he did, though, I promise you. But, how did you know about all this already?"

"Alistair told me when he found me," Fergus answered, gesturing to where Alistair stood at a table several feet away, talking to someone Aedan didn't recognize. "I ran across him and his men while I was trying to make my way to Denerim. You see, I never made it to the battle at Ostagar," he explained. "We were still scouting in the Wilds when we were attacked by a party of darkspawn. Most of my men were killed. I woke up two weeks later in a Chasind hut, wounded and feverish. By the time I was able to sneak out of the Wilds a little over a month ago, you were already marching to Denerim. I tried to get word to Highever, only to be told there was no one left to get word to. So I started to head to Denerim, deciding I'd try to find out what happened there, and heard all these rumours as I went about what had happened."

"It was more than a little confusing, the different versions I got. Some people said everyone was dead, some said you were still alive but no one knew where, some said you were with the Wardens but were probably dead now, and so on." Fergus shrugged, continuing, "By the time I ran into Alistair, I didn't know what to believe. Anyway, he asked me who I was and where I was going, and when I told him my name, he looked at me like he'd seen a ghost." Fergus chuckled, a little bitterly, Aedan thought, more than a little floored by his brother's tale. "That piqued my curiosity, so I asked him what he knew about me and Highever. He told me who he was and how he knew you, but he was a little reluctant to give me any more details. Said I should probably talk to you about it, but I told him I was sick of waiting to hear the truth, and I wasn't about to wait any longer. So he told me some of what had happened to you in the past year on our way back, starting with what Howe had done. It was all . . . a little difficult to hear. I was happy that you were still alive and Howe wasn't, but those were the only good parts of the story. I guess part of me had still been holding out hope that it wasn't as bad as I'd heard, and to find out otherwise . . . well . . . I needed a little time to adjust myself before I was fit company for anyone."

"Of course you did," Aedan agreed quietly, disturbed at the obvious pain on his older brother's face that he was trying so hard to mask. "I'm . . . so sorry about everything, Fergus. That . . . I was all you had to come back to."

Fergus scowled at him. "Don't be an idiot, little brother. There were times on my way back when I thought I would have no one at all to come back to. To find out I still had my brother, that I wasn't completely alone now, was the best thing that's happened to me in the past few months. I don't know how you handled being alone, thinking you were the only one left."

"I wouldn't say I handled it well," Aedan muttered, shrugging, "but I wasn't alone. If I really had been, I don't think I could have stayed sane."

"Yeah," Fergus smiled slightly, his expression lightening a bit. "It seems like you found yourself some really good friends while you were defeating the Blight. Like I said, little brother, you've done good. And I hear you're finally marrying Anora."

"Indeed, I am." Aedan plastered a bright smile on his face, as though he was overjoyed about it, although in truth, he'd been feeling a little depressed about it in the past couple of weeks. He wasn't, after all, marrying the woman that he loved, and he'd been lonelier than he'd expected to be since Morrigan had left. His bed had felt startlingly empty and cold without her in it, more so than he had realized it would be; the whole situation had made it hard to feel any enthusiasm for his upcoming wedding. The worst part of it all was he knew he had no right to complain about the situation; he'd brought it all on himself.

Fergus was regarding him speculatively, a suspicious frown on his face. "Hmm. You've fallen in love with someone else, haven't you?" he asked in a low voice.

Aedan was startled, to say the least. Judging by the grin on his older brother's face when he'd mentioned Anora, Aedan had guessed that Alistair must not have mentioned anything about Morrigan or the fact that the marriage was a political alliance, and he'd tried to act accordingly. "How did you –"

"Do you think I don't know you, Aedan?" Fergus demanded, still keeping his voice low after glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was near enough to hear what they were discussing. "Five years ago, you would have been ecstatic at the thought of marrying Anora. Now it seems like you're more depressed about it than anything, so that means you have to be in love with someone else. Who is it? Your friend didn't get into any specifics about anything besides the Blight and Howe. Is it her?"

Aedan followed his brother's gaze, realizing he was pointing at Ayla. She'd entered the hall late, obviously just returning from the scouting mission he'd sent her and Zevran on yesterday. She was weaving her way through the crowd in a flowing dress of navy blue, shot through with silver threads, her flaming hair loose, and had just reached Alistair. His fellow Warden slipped an arm around her waist, looking down at her with such love on his face that it almost hurt Aedan to see it, knowing he couldn't look at Morrigan that way. And as happy as he was for Alistair, he couldn't help feeling the slightest twinge of jealousy as well, knowing that Alistair would get to be with the woman he loved all the time, while Aedan himself would be lucky to see Morrigan every few months. He tried to ruthlessly quash his jealousy as he looked back at Fergus, shocked. "You mean Ayla? She's like a sister to me. Besides, she and Alistair are together, and even if I was attracted to her, I would _never_ –"

"I know you wouldn't," Fergus interrupted him with a sigh. "Do you think I don't know that's part of the reason why you stayed away from Cailan and Anora after they got married? That's why I thought it would make sense that you're getting married to Anora, if the woman you were in love with now didn't return your feelings. So, if it's not her, then who?"

"She's not here," Aedan muttered as Fergus kept looking around the hall, realizing he wasn't going to get out of this without telling him everything. "She left after the battle. She's – well, she's an apostate." He proceeded to tell Fergus a shortened version of everything that had transpired between him and Morrigan, why they were not together, and why he'd decided to marry Anora. "There was no easy choice for me, big brother, no perfect happy ending. I think – this was the best I could hope for."

Fergus shook his head. "You know, Aedan, you can be terrifyingly practical sometimes. I always knew you were ambitious, though, as much as you tried to hide it. I was actually going to ask Father to give you the teyrnship, instead of me, before all of this happened. I never really wanted it, but I knew you did – and I knew you'd be good at it. But, since you're going to be King now, I suppose I have no choice."

Aedan stared at Fergus, blinking in shock. He'd never realized how well his big brother saw through him – he'd always thought he'd been better at hiding his feelings than that. "You – you knew?"

His older brother snorted at him. "Of course I knew. You weren't as good at hiding it as you thought you were. I don't think Father and Mother ever realized, but I could see the look on your face sometimes when you knew they weren't looking."

Aedan sighed. "I'm sorry, Fergus. It wasn't that I thought you wouldn't be good at it – I just wanted to be able to make a difference, and at the time, I didn't see any other way for me to do it."

"I wasn't mad about it," Fergus told him. "I just thought it was unfair that neither of us could do what we wanted just because of the order we were born in. When I saw how unhappy you were about being left behind while Father and I went to fight, I finally decided I was going to talk to him about it. But by then, it was too late." Fergus sighed, his green eyes looking a little watery before he went on, "At any rate, after everything that's happened, there's no way I'm abandoning Highever now. It will always belong to the Couslands."

"Yes, it will," Aedan agreed, squeezing his big brother's shoulder in turn. "I would not trust anyone else to watch over it, and I know Anora will agree. But, Fergus, if you become Teyrn, you do realize . . ." he hesitated, not wanting to voice it quite yet.

Fergus nodded, clearing his throat. "I know. Eventually, I'll have to . . . remarry. I don't think I can ever . . . that is, I think we'll both end up in political marriages."

"Fergus . . ." Aedan didn't know what to say. Tell him that he'd get over Oriana eventually? That one day he'd fall in love again? It wasn't like he could promise any of those things would happen, and there was no getting around the fact that Fergus would need another heir. Particularly as Aedan himself might not be able to provide any heirs, either for the throne or Highever.

"Don't worry about it, little brother." Fergus looked over his shoulder. "At any rate, I suppose I should let you get to your parade. Anora is waving at me rather impatiently. I'll talk to you again, before I head to Highever and see if I can clean up the mess Howe made of it. I hope you'll come to visit me when I do."

"Of course I will, as often as I can," Aedan promised him, though he wasn't sure how eager he was to go back. There would be a lot of bad memories for him there after what he'd seen, but he couldn't just refuse to visit Fergus. He'd just have to try to deal with the memories when he went.

"Good. Highever won't be the same without . . . everyone around. Take care of yourself, you hear? Or I'll find you and nag you like Mother did until you're ready to tear out your hair." Fergus smiled at him, though there was a sad quality to it that wrenched Aedan's heart, especially when he had a sudden vision of his mother nagging him about Striker being in the kitchens again.

"Of course I will," Aedan muttered, hugging Fergus again, patting him on the back as he pulled away. "You'd best take care of yourself, too. Let me know if you need to talk about anything."

"The same goes for you, little brother. Stop trying to hide it all," Fergus scolded him.

"Right," Aedan nodded, realizing Fergus was right. He likely did need to talk about things a little more, and it was good to know he had his big brother back that he could turn to if need be. He glanced around the room as he left Fergus, wondering if he should talk to anyone else, but seeing Anora making shooing motions at him, decided he'd best just get on with it. He could thank Alistair for finding Fergus later, and speak to the others as well.

He headed to the double doors leading out of the hall, and after speaking to the guard and finding out there was an escort waiting to parade him through the streets of Denerim, plastered a smile to his face and headed out to greet the waiting citizens. He'd make sure he used this new title of his to do something good for the Wardens and the people of Ferelden, after everything that he and everyone else had gone through to make all of this happen.

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"You actually convinced Wynne to perform it for us?" Ayla asked, surprised. A few days ago, she and Alistair had gone to speak to Wynne and ask her to assist them with the bonding ceremony. They'd even go so far as to finally tell her where Ayla really came from, so that she'd fully understand why they wanted to do it. Wynne had turned them down at the time, however, and Ayla had thought that would be the end of it. She hadn't known that Alistair would go by himself to Wynne to convince her, but it appeared he'd succeeded at talking her into it at last. "I thought we'd have to wait for the next time we saw Morrigan."

Alistair nodded, smiling down at her in answer. "I did. She still took some convincing, mainly because of the blood aspect of it, but when I pointed out that the Joining ritual was very similar, and the Circle had helped with that at Ostagar, she eventually gave in. I also explained again how important it was to both of us. So . . . do you have everything that we need?"

"Thank you," she beamed up at him, "for trying again. It means so much to me." He smiled, his eyes warm as she went on, "And I think so, yes. I have the five candles, the red ribbon, and then there's the tokens we have to exchange that are of great import to each of us." She touched her armband.

"And you're sure you want to give that to me?" Alistair frowned at her, clearly concerned. "It is one of the only things you have left of your home."

"It is, yes, but you'll always be wearing it, and I'll always be with you, so it's not like I'm giving it away," she pointed out. "Besides, the locket is the only thing you have of your mother's. It's the same thing for you."

"I suppose so," he agreed after a moment, still studying her closely. "As long as you're certain, anyway."

"I am," she said firmly. There was no doubt in her mind about any of this, not about giving him her armband or the bonding itself. She had wanted this since the moment she had accepted that she loved him. But she would give him one more chance to back out, if he wanted, before it was too late. "Are you sure that you really want to go through with this, though? Because we can do it tonight. There's a full moon, and we have everything else we need. But if you've changed your mind, I would understand."

"No." He shook his head, and she could see the conviction in his eyes. "I want this. If we can do it tonight, let's do it. It has to be outside, right?"

"Right. There's a spot in the castle gardens I thought would be perfect, so we wouldn't have to go far. How about you go get Wynne, and I'll get everything set up? It's already dark, so we should be ready to go." Alistair nodded in response to her words, heading for the door to their room, and she crossed the room to her pack, where she'd stored all the items they would need.

Seeing that Alistair was heading down the hall to Wynne's room, she went the opposite direction towards the door that led out to the gardens. No one would be out in the gardens tonight, as they were all either celebrating within the castle itself or out in the streets of Denerim following the parade. The gardens, contained as they were within the castle's walls, would be isolated and the perfect place to perform the ceremony, as all they really needed was the earth beneath them, the air around them, and the water in the nearby well.

She was both excited and nervous, she realized as she drew the five-pointed shape into the dirt in the clearing she'd found in the center of the garden near the well, making it just large enough for her and Alistair to stand in. She was eager to become truly bonded to Alistair, and yet not knowing for certain whether it would work or how it would feel afterwards made her nervous as well. But in spite of that feeling that made her hands just a bit shaky and caused sweat to trickle down her back even in the coolness of the night, she was certain, deep in her heart, that this was what she wanted.

She set up the candles at each of the five points, to represent the five elements of the Goddess's magic, and lit each one to provide the fire. The well was near enough to provide water. Spirit would be there in each person present, and there was no need to have any other representation of it. She set the red ribbon out in the middle of the ring, and dug out the piece of parchment she'd written for Wynne with the words she'd need to know.

Alistair appeared just as she'd finished, followed by Wynne, both of them wearing what they'd worn to the coronation and celebration earlier, just as she was. Alistair, she knew, wasn't terribly fond of the ceremonial armor, but she privately thought he looked very handsome in it. Wynne, however, seemed to quite like the long-sleeved red dress she'd been given that was accented in gold, and it did look quite well on her. Wynne frowned slightly as she stopped just outside of the ring of candles and Alistair stepped inside.

"You are both quite certain of this?" Wynne asked, looking closely at both of them.

"We are," Ayla said firmly, nodding even as Alistair did. "We made sure of that before we came here."

Wynne sighed. "Very well, then. How do I perform this . . . binding?"

Ayla handed her the parchment, explaining, "These are the words to start, and these are the words you say when we've both added our blood to the ribbon. Then you tie it around our hands, and channel the magic as you would any other spell, I suppose, into us and into the ribbon as we say our words. And once we are finished the words, there should be a flash of light, as I recall, and it is done."

Wynne took the parchment, gesturing for Ayla to go stand within the ring along with Alistair. She stepped within, facing him, the ribbon between them, and pulled out the dagger she wore beneath her skirt. "We have to cut each other," she informed him, "just enough to get the seven drops of blood on the ribbon, okay? Then once Wynne has bound our hands together, we'll say the words. I'll start, and you repeat after me. Are you ready?"

She could see the warmth glowing from his eyes as he replied, "Absolutely, love."

She smiled, and scooped up the ribbon, holding both it and her dagger as she nodded at Wynne.

Wynne glanced down at the parchment, then back up at Ayla. "Well, if you're sure this will work," was all she said before she began.

"I invoke thee, Goddess, Queen of all the Worlds, to bear witness and bestow your magic upon these two who wish to be bonded together as one, as life-mates, from now until the end of their days in this world." First Wynne's hands, then her body, began to glow with the swirling colors that passed to her from the ground beneath her, the air above her, from the well nearby, from the flames of the candles, and the spirit within her, and the mage stepped forward until she was just outside the small ring, placing her hands on each of their shoulders when Ayla nodded. An odd tingling sensation began running through Ayla's body when Wynne's hand touched her shoulder.

Alistair had pulled his gauntlets off, and now extended his left hand to Ayla. She made a small cut on the pad of his ring finger with the dagger, wincing apologetically at him as she squeezed out the seven drops of blood carefully onto the ribbon before passing both items to him and holding out her own hand.

He frowned a little as he repeated what she'd just done, mouthing 'I'm sorry' at her when he cut her finger, but she shook her head at him to let him know it was fine. He squeezed the drops onto the ribbon, then handed it to Wynne, who'd briefly removed her hands from their shoulders to hold the ribbon as she recited the five spell-words, " _Tine, cre, uisce, aer, spiorad._ "

The ribbon flared brightly with yellow light, and the glow remained as Wynne carefully bound their left hands together at the wrist, and the two of them linked their fingers together. Ayla couldn't help but squeeze Alistair's hand tightly, and he squeezed hers in turn, giving her a reassuring smile. She could both feel the warmth of the magic creeping up her arm from the ribbon and see the glow of it as it went, as the same happened with Alistair's arm, even as the tingling returned when Wynne's hands went back to their shoulders. She nodded at Alistair, and then began, speaking a few words at a time and allowing him to repeat after her. "As I have now found my mate, so I wish to become one with you, bound together. My breath is your breath. My light is your light. My joy is your joy. My warmth is your warmth. My sorrow is your sorrow. My pain is your pain. My darkness is your darkness. My strength is your strength. My weakness is your weakness. My heart is your heart. My body is your body. My blood is your blood. My soul is your soul. My life is your life. These things I swear to give only to you, and to no other, for as long as I shall live. This token that is dear to my heart," with this Ayla took her armband off with her right hand and passed it to Alistair, who in turn took off the locket and passed it back to her, "I give to you to remain yours, as I am, to show to all that I am yours and you are mine, bound together as one, as mates, for life."

The glow had spread from the ribbon all through their bodies as they had recited the words, and by the time they were done, they were both glowing brightly, so much that Ayla could barely stand to look at it. As soon as the last word was spoken, the light flared bright and white-hot, causing an intense warmth and some sort of indescribable feeling to burst through Ayla's body, making her cry out and sway abruptly with the force of it, as she heard and felt Alistair do the same.

In the next moment, the light and the odd sensations and feelings were gone. She could, however, sense something as though it were at the edge of her mind or the edge of her vision, something that gave off a feeling like light and warmth and comfort. She looked up, meeting Alistair's eyes, their left wrists bound together and their hands still tightly held together. He smiled brightly at her, which was accompanied by a sudden wave of warmth from that new sensation, before he asked a trifle uncertainly, "It worked, right?"

"Can't you feel something different? I can," she told him as Wynne began to untie the ribbon around their hands. "Like a sensation, as though something or someone was just outside of your field of vision?"

"Now that you mention it," he said softly, tilting his head, his eyes going blank for a moment, "yes. Sort of like when I sense where the darkspawn are, but instead of something wrong, something dark, this is . . . warmth and light. What does that mean? You said we could sense emotions from each other, right?"

"We can, but it will take some time to figure out what sensations apply to what feelings." She let go of his hand as the ribbon fell away, flexing her fingers, and he did the same. "And it's only something you're feeling strongly. So if you're a little annoyed or irritated, or some other mild feeling, I wouldn't know. But if you're really happy or really angry, or something like that, I would be able to tell. But it will all take some time and practice to figure out."

"Then I look forward to figuring it out." He grinned, before turning to Wynne. "Thank you, Wynne. We appreciate it."

"Yes, thank you," Ayla added, smiling at the older woman. "You have no idea how much this means to me – to us."

Wynne had been looking a bit uncertain, but now she smiled warmly. "I think I do. Alistair was quite passionate when he explained it to me again. And though it was certainly the most unusual spell I have ever performed, it was quite . . . _interesting_ , as well. The words were rather beautiful, also. At any rate, you are most welcome. I think I shall head back to my room now; that was rather an exhausting spell."

With that, Wynne turned and headed back towards the castle, while Ayla and Alistair blew out the candles and gathered up the supplies, returning them to her pack along with his gauntlets, so that he could take his hand in hers as they headed back to their room.

"You know," he said softly as they walked, "I still want an actual wedding, too. Something with all of our friends there. I just want to be joined to you in every way I possibly can, in the ways of both your world and mine."

She nodded, smiling at him. "I want that too. I think maybe a week or so after Aedan's wedding, like we were talking about." She toyed with the locket around her neck. This was the other way that she knew the bonding had worked; she could see, now, the faint glow coming off the locket, and the fact that it smelled strongly like Alistair in spite of it resting against her skin now. The same was true of her armband, now around Alistair's upper arm; it glowed just lightly enough to see if you were looking for it, but her own scent was like a beacon on it among the scent of his body, to warn any other shifters that he was off-limits.

She pointed it out to Alistair, and after glancing closely at the armband and the locket, he smiled. "Now that I know to look for it, I can see it. They do glow, though it's just a little bit. That's amazing."

"It's to make it obvious," she explained. "Well, to anyone in Fallor, anyway, it would be obvious that we are bonded and not available to anyone else. I suppose, much like rings do here." She touched her ring gently, and nodded at the one that she had given him a few days ago after receiving hers, a solid band of silver with swirling black lines and a few small topazes set in it.

"So men in either world will know no one can have you but me?" he asked teasingly.

She grinned at him. "That's the idea. And you, good ser, are off-limits to women in either world."

They had reached the door to their room by now; he swung it open and pulled her in, shutting it behind them. "Of course I am," he said huskily, and she got the sudden sensation of heat, as though she stood too close to a fire. "From the beginning, I was only yours."

She could feel the sizzling flare of lust that rose up in her veins at his words, and saw his eyes widen at the same time she felt it. "Let's test out this bond," she whispered as she closed the distance between them, reaching for a strap of his armor. "So you can find out what me wanting you so badly I can hardly think straight feels like."

He groaned at her words, eyes darkening, and she was suddenly no longer sure if the blazing flames of desire she could feel came from him or her as they both began working to strip off his armor. But at the moment, she didn't care; she only wanted to see just how far they could push the limits of their now-shared lust.


	58. Keeping Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Ayla put their bond to the test; Aedan finally marries Anora and is crowned as King; and Ayla and Alistair get married in the Ferelden tradition as well, renewing their promises to one another after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter in this fic. There will be sequels covering DA2 and Inquisition. I hope to have the first chapter of the DA2 sequel up in about a week's time, so everyone please keep an eye out for that! Also, there is smut at the beginning of this chapter, so please skip down to the first break if you'd rather not read it. Please note as well that some of the wedding ceremony was adapted from a blog on Tumblr that had created a head-canon of Ferelden wedding ceremonies, as there's no actual canon I could find for the ceremony. I can't recall the name of the blogger, but all credit for those parts goes to him/her.

Chapter 57: Keeping Promises

Alistair wasn't precisely sure what he'd expected the bond to feel like, but whatever he'd been imagining was nothing close to the reality of it, which had completely caught him off guard. Part of it, he realized, was the fact that there had always been a tiny part of him that still doubted she could feel about him the way he felt about her. It was a ridiculous part of him that he'd repeatedly tried to quash with the obvious facts, which included her repeated declarations, but he'd never fully succeeded in getting rid of it, no matter how sure the rest of him was – until now, that is.

Now, he could feel for himself precisely how she felt for him, in a way that words could never express, the strength of her love – and her desire. He'd already figured out that the warmth, like a comforting blanket wrapped around him, was her love for him. And it was there, always, from the moment the spell had been finished, a soothing, steadying presence. There had been a few times already where it had grown more intense, washing over him like a wave, but it had never diminished, not once, which gave him confidence like he'd never before felt.

Then, of course, there was the desire. It had been immediately obvious when he'd felt the blazing heat just what that had meant, especially when it was accompanied by the flare of lust in her eyes. The fact that she'd felt it that much just from something he'd said had been surprising – and enjoyable. And he was already having trouble controlling how his own desire reacted to the feeling of hers, and they were still only in the process of stripping off his armor. He was both curious and a little nervous to find out just how much more intense it could become, he thought as the last piece of his armor finally dropped to the ground.

He heaved a sigh of relief at the heavy weight of the armor being gone as he stripped off his cotton undertunic, Ayla backing away a few steps to start removing the dress she'd worn to the celebration. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that dress?" he asked softly as it began to slip off her shoulders, his eyes tracking the path of its fall as it exposed her bare breasts and luscious body to his hungry gaze, her smallclothes and garter belt around one thigh being the only things she had worn beneath.

"I think you mentioned it once or twice already." There was a tone of amusement in her voice, even as he felt another wave of warmth wash over him. He looked up from the length of her gorgeous legs and that garter belt that never failed to catch his attention to find her smiling at him, eyes glowing. Her expression shifted subtly as he reached for the waistband of his leggings, heat bursting over him as her eyes flared. "You looked very handsome in your armor, by the way, but you look even better out of it."

He grinned at her as he slipped off his leggings and smallclothes, finally standing naked before her. "Do I now? Should I –"

He cut his words off abruptly when she basically leapt right at him, catching her in spite of his shock. He couldn't quite suppress his moan at the feeling of her soft, silky skin against his as she wound her arms and legs around him. Her smallclothes were the only barrier that kept him from feeling all of her; his already insistently throbbing erection was currently brushing against the soft cloth as she hooked her legs around his waist, pressing her mouth to his throat. And _Maker_ , was he ever aroused; the lust was consuming and all-encompassing, rocking his body.

There had been many times already when they were together that he thought there was simply no way he could want her more, and she kept proving him wrong. This time, with the way the blazing flames of her desire only drove his higher at the thought that he could arouse her this much, so that he barely knew which one of them was feeling what anymore, had him harder than he'd ever been. He was certain he was on the verge of exploding, the pressure building through his body as he felt himself swell further yet just from the feel of her lips, teeth and tongue as they worked hotly on his neck. Her mouth trailed up to his earlobe, taking it gently between her teeth and tugging, making him gasp as she rocked her hips against him.

"Ayla, love," he panted, struggling for some sort of control as the flames spiralled ever higher in him like an inferno, "this is – it's – almost too much . . . I'm not sure I . . ."

She trailed her mouth back down, sinking her teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sucking hard on his skin following the bite, and his breath came out in an odd strangled noise, his knees nearly buckling. She pulled her head back, saying breathlessly, "Yes, you can. We both can . . . ohhh," she moaned lowly, her head tipping back.

His hands had kept wandering while she was talking, seemingly of their own volition, and one of them was now threaded in her hair, kneading the base of her neck, while the other had squeezed her buttocks, his fingers sliding beneath her smallclothes to get a more thorough grip. He nearly yelped from the next flare of heat that came from her, like he stood too close to the sun now, as she squeezed her legs tighter around him, affording her more leverage to grind against his achingly painful length.

His mind little more than a haze now, he did have just enough presence of mind left to decide that he'd better put her down on the bed now before he dropped her. He stumbled over to the large bed they'd been sharing since the battle, landing on top of her as they fell. He would have pulled back to give her a bit of room to breathe, but she wasn't having any of it, her arms and legs tightening around him to keep him there on top of her.

"You're mine," she growled at him, gripping his hair tightly in her hands as she squirmed and wiggled beneath him, rubbing her body against his, driving him to distraction. "Truly and totally mine now."

"I am," he agreed hoarsely, reaching for her hands as she trailed them down his back now, scraping, kneading, and pinching. He quite simply couldn't take it anymore, so he pulled her hands off and pinned them to the bed, ignoring her struggles to get loose. He could feel the intense spike in her desire when he did that, and he filed the information away for future notice. He remembered a crack Zevran had made once about the use of rope in the bedroom, but right now he wasn't interested in stopping long enough to look for any sort of tie. _Next time_ , he thought hazily.

He leaned down, still keeping her hands pinned, and kissed her deeply, yearning for the intoxicating and heady taste of her. She pressed up against him as much as she could as they tasted of one another, nibbling, sipping, sucking, their tongues swirling around one another, even as their bodies slid together with the achingly pleasant friction of her breasts and taut nipples against his chest. "My love, my mate," he gasped against her mouth as her strong legs tightened around his body again, her hips grinding against him until he thrust involuntarily and rather frantically against her, feeling the wetness of her even through her smallclothes.

"Please, Alistair," she begged him breathlessly, and the fire was blazing so hotly between them now he knew it would consume them both soon, whether they were ready for it or not. The pressure was rising through him so strongly he didn't think he could hold it much longer, his breath coming now in ragged bursts as she panted and moaned beneath him.

He let go of her hands, pulling back from her enough to reach between their bodies and abruptly rip her smallclothes from her, uncaring that he had ruined another set, not wanting to separate their bodies long enough to remove them properly. He slipped two fingers in her, groaning at how wet she was for him, at the silken heat of her that he adored. She let out a half-strangled scream as he stroked his fingers deeply within her, a noise that sent a bolt of electricity straight to his groin. Or was it that her hand had closed over him, making him freeze in place? He was suddenly quite certain he _would_ explode if she moved her hand even a fraction of an inch.

"Ayla . . ." his voice was little more than a croak as he struggled to keep his lust in check, to keep the pressure from bursting forth as he slipped his fingers out of her, "don't . . . I can't . . ."

Her soft hand released him, giving him a little room to breathe again as she demanded, "So just _take_ me already –"

He cut her off by slamming into her abruptly, loving the way her eyes widened and she gasped softly as she arched up to meet him. But he froze when he was buried fully within her, the tight heat of her clenching around him, feeling suddenly unable to take the intensity of their shared desire, his body already coiling tight as she shuddered beneath him. Need was coursing through his body, boiling and violent in its urgency, and he sucked in a few more ragged breaths, realizing how incredibly close he was to losing control entirely. "I won't . . . last long . . ." he managed.

"I won't . . . either . . . so just move . . ." she got out between gasping breaths. He could feel the truth of her words in the way she was spasming around him, so he began stroking in and out of her slowly, not sure that his addled brain could manage a faster speed at this moment.

The fiery heat and the intense pleasure were growing too much, becoming electric shockwaves that were shuddering through his body, as Ayla scraped her nails all the way down his back. She reached his buttocks and squeezed firmly, pushing his hips into hers as her back bowed up tightly against him, his name leaving her lips in a keening cry, and that was it. Unable to take the pleasure anymore when he could feel the ecstasy humming through her body as well as he could feel his own, he somehow thrust even deeper into her, letting out a guttural groan, his entire body clenching as the pleasure burst through him with all the subtlety of an explosion, dimming his vision as he collapsed on top of her.

He thought he might have passed out, because it was several minutes later before any sort of awareness returned to him. Realizing how heavily he was laying on her, he rolled over, bringing her with him, not bothering to pull out of her or separate their bodies in any way as he settled her on top of him, their legs tangled together, his arm snug around her waist. She peeked up at him, smiling slightly, and a bubbly feeling swept over him along with the warmth of her love. Contentment, maybe? "Mmm. Alistair . . . I love you."

He cradled her face in his hands, smiling brightly back at her. He felt incredibly drained and yet so utterly happy and at peace that he didn't even care if it felt like he couldn't move to save his own life right now. He pressed his lips gently to her forehead. "And I love you, with everything I am."

"I know," she answered softly, her hand looping up around the back of his head to tug him downwards as she kissed him slowly, sweetly. "I can feel it."

"Is it always going to be like that?" he asked her as he laid his head back down, and she laid hers against his shoulder. "Because that was almost _too_ intense."

"I'm not sure. Nobody really discusses that aspect of bonding," she replied with a slight chuckle, which made him smile. "But probably. We'll learn how to control it better, though, I'm sure, once we are more used to it."

"I hope so," he replied fervently, stroking her back with his free hand. "I was already having trouble controlling myself around you in public before. Now that I'll be able to feel you wanting me too, I'm not sure I'll be able to be discreet at all."

"I assure you I won't mind in the slightest." She gave him a slow, wicked grin when he looked down at her, and he could feel the heat of her lust flaring up again, causing him to groan softly.

"And I thought you were trying to kill me before," he grumbled.

She smiled as she traced circles on his chest, the feather-light touch of her fingers both soothing and distracting. "Well, as I said before, it wouldn't be a bad way to go, would it?"

He grinned, feeling indescribably light and happy as he met her gaze and the sparkle in her eyes. "No, but I'll need a little time before you try to kill me again."

"Take all the time you need, my love," she replied, her fingers massaging his chest gently now as she sent him a sly grin. "I'll know when you're ready again."

He laughed softly. "I imagine you will." The bond, he thought as he rubbed gentle circles on her lower back now, was more than he'd ever expected, but he had to admit that so far he found it quite enjoyable. She was truly his, now, at least in the way of her world. Now he would just have to make sure that it was official here in Ferelden, as well, because he wanted them together in every way that it was possible for them to be, always.

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Aedan sighed as he fixed the last bit of his ceremonial armor in place again. It was the day of his wedding to Anora and his coronation, and as much as part of him had been eager to get it all over with, he found that there was another part of him that was dreading the whole thing. He knew he couldn't back out on it now, though. It was far too late for that.

There was really no point in putting it off, either, though he'd considered doing so before. It would make Anora suspicious if he asked for a delay, as there was really no reason for one. Besides, most of their companions were only planning on staying long enough for the weddings and were then going to go their separate ways, so there was no use in forcing them to stay around any longer.

He'd taken the time to speak to everyone as much as he could over the last couple of weeks when he wasn't making plans with Anora or directing the recovery efforts, and had found out what they were all planning to do. Sten, of course, would be heading back to his people, now that he had his missing sword Aedan had gotten Bodahn to track down. Zevran was certain the Crows would come after him eventually, in spite of Taliesin's defeat, so he planned to be on the move as much as possible after leaving here. Leliana had been asked by the Chantry to go back to the Urn of Sacred Ashes and set it up as a sort of pilgrimage spot. Oghren had been given a place in the Ferelden army, apparently not having any interest in returning to Orzammar, particularly not when there was a dwarven woman on the surface he was interested in pursuing. Alistair and Ayla would be moving on to Amaranthine after their own wedding to begin setting up the new Warden headquarters for Ferelden as soon as word came down from Weisshaupt that everything was ready. Wynne was the only one who would be staying, having agreed to his and Anora's request to take a position at court as an occult advisor.

It would be odd once they all left. He'd gotten very used to having everyone around all the time over the past year; they'd basically turned into an odd family of sorts. He'd already been lonely enough with Morrigan gone, but he knew it would only be worse once everyone else was gone too, with Anora and Wynne being the only ones around that he really knew. On the plus side, however, he'd received word from Morrigan just a few days ago as to where she'd gone and where he could find her if he could get away.

Well, actually, Ayla had received word on where she was and had passed it on to him when no one had been listening. He knew he had to be careful at keeping his relationship with Morrigan a secret; he didn't want to hurt Anora, nor did he want to ruin his opportunity to make things better in Ferelden. As such, he would have to find a good reason to leave Denerim and go visit Morrigan after the wedding. His hope was that he could use visiting the new Warden headquarters in Amaranthine as an excuse, as soon as Alistair and Ayla made it there, that is. It would be an excellent reason to leave, and there was no real reason that Anora would need to accompany him, nor did he think she would really want to. He would just have to hope that the timing worked out, because seeing Morrigan again was the first thing he'd had to look forward to in weeks.

He checked his reflection in the mirror in the corner of the room, deciding finally that he looked well enough, and tried on a smile. It was convincing enough, he supposed. A knock came on his door at that moment, and a voice called from the other side, "My lord, the ceremony will be starting soon!"

"I'm on my way!" he called back, turning from the mirror and heading towards the door. It was time he stopped wallowing, he thought, and embraced the choices he'd made. He could keep the promises he'd made to both Anora and Morrigan, and he _would_ , no matter what.

He followed the guard that had come to fetch him through the castle's hallways and to the main hall where Anora's coronation had taken place. The room was even fuller than it had been a few weeks prior; it was standing room only, nobles and soldiers packed in along both sides of the aisle that led up to the dais at the other end. All of the balconies were full, as well. The Revered Mother was already waiting at the altar that had been set up on the dais, he saw, facing out over the room, and two ranks of soldiers lined the stairs below her. He made his way up the aisle as quickly as he could, having come in one of the side doors.

Alistair and the others, he saw, were all waiting on his side of the room, the side that was to his right as he came in, at the front of the crowd just below the dais. They were all wearing the outfits they'd had on at Anora's coronation, and Fergus stood with them, too. He would be leaving for Highever soon, likely at the same time all the others would be leaving. He nodded at them as he went past; both of his brothers gave him encouraging grins, and Ayla and the others all wished him good luck. He went up to stand just to the right of the altar, facing out over the crowd below, waiting for Anora to enter.

Once he was in place, the Revered Mother waved to the two guards standing at the double doors at the other end of the room, and they pushed the doors open wide, revealing Anora waiting on the other side. She walked slowly up the aisle towards Aedan, who found that he couldn't quite stop staring at her. Her golden hair hung loose for once, held in place only by her circlet, spilling over the shoulders of the white lacy dress she wore, its long skirt accented with gold trailing along behind her. The bodice was low-cut and well-fitted, and she fairly glowed as she approached the dais.

Aedan swallowed a bit at the surprising and unwelcome flash of admiration and desire he felt as she mounted the steps towards him. It wasn't something he'd expected to feel, and he tried to quash the emotions down, even as he smiled at Anora. He took her hand in his, the gauntlets being the only part of the armor he hadn't put on, as they faced the Revered Mother, and the older woman began by reciting a bit of the Chant of Light before addressing the crowd, which had fallen completely silent. "We gather here today in the eyes of the Maker to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony. If any person can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Unsurprisingly, no one in the crowd said anything, and the Revered Mother continued on. "So too, Your Majesties, I must ask that either of you inform me if there is any reason why you may not be joined together in wedlock this day."

"There is not," Aedan and Anora said together.

"Speak your vows to one another now," the Revered Mother prompted.

Aedan turned more fully to Anora, lifting both her hands in his and meeting her eyes. "Anora, I swear unto the Maker and Holy Andraste to honor, care for and love you the rest of my days. " And he would, he thought, just maybe not in the way she expected.

She squeezed his hands, smiling softly at him. "Aedan, I swear unto the Maker and Holy Andraste to honor, care for and love you the rest of my days."

They stepped towards the altar, the rings they'd picked laying in front of the Revered Mother as she chanted, "Maker, bless these rings, that those who wear them, that give and receive them, may be ever faithful to one another, remain in Your peace, and live and grow old together in Your love, seeing their children's children prosper and thrive." She handed the rings to them, and Aedan slipped Anora's on her finger, while she did the same with his.

Finally, the Revered Mother came around the altar as they knelt before her, placing her hands on both their heads and speaking more of the Chant as she blessed them, declaring, "Here you kneel before me, in the sight of the Maker. From this day forward, your lives are intertwined. No longer shall you walk your paths alone, but you shall walk side by side, hand in hand." After speaking a few more lines of the Chant, she declared, "Rise now, together as one in the sight of the Maker."

They stood up as the Revered Mother backed away, and she continued, "I pronounce you husband and wife, in the name of the Maker. You may now seal your troth to one another with a kiss."

Aedan turned Anora gently back to face him, and dipped his head to kiss her softly. He'd meant it only to be a chaste kiss, but when she leaned into him, he couldn't stop himself from deepening it just a little, pulling her closer to him as she tasted him in turn. He was surprised once again to find that the kiss, while not giving him the same electric feeling as Morrigan's did, was still pleasant and more enjoyable than he'd expected it to be; quite similar, in fact, to the way he used to feel when he kissed Anora. He'd not really expected to feel anything when kissing her, now that he was in love with Morrigan; perhaps this would not be quite so simple as he'd thought, he mused before pulling back.

He smiled at Anora, trying to cover his surprise, noting the light blush across her face as she smiled at him in turn, before they turned and waved to the crowd below, who burst into cheers and applause.

Once the crowd had quieted down, the Revered Mother went on to perform his coronation while Anora waited just to the side. He knelt at the Revered Mother's feet, taking the same oaths to protect and govern Ferelden and its people that Anora had just taken a few weeks ago, before receiving his blessing and having a circlet placed upon his head, as well. Once that was done, she gestured to him to rise and greet the crowd, as Anora had.

The crowd assembled below cheered once more as he waved to them, Anora coming to stand at his side. Once the cheers had died down, he addressed everyone waiting there in the main hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for your support. I will do everything in my power to serve Ferelden and all of you by Queen Anora's side. I am most grateful for this opportunity, and I hope to be the King that Ferelden deserves. We will come out of the Blight stronger than ever before, I promise you."

The crowd broke into thunderous applause once more, and after everyone had quieted again, Anora declared the start of another celebration, suggesting that everyone help themselves to the feast and dancing set up in the palace's ballroom. The crowd began to disperse a bit at a time, as Anora took Aedan's arm and he led her down the steps to mingle with everyone and receive the well-wishes of everyone who had attended.

The fact that they were well and truly married now, and he was indeed the King as he'd planned, began to slowly sink into Aedan's brain as he made the rounds with Anora at his side. What was going through his mind even more, as he couldn't help but notice the brightness of her smile or the brush of her breasts against his arm, was that it was going to be far more difficult than he'd suspected it would be to keep his feelings for Anora simple. Still, no matter what happened, he would keep his promise to Morrigan, he vowed to himself. Whatever it was that he felt for Anora was still but a pale shadow of his feelings for Morrigan, and he _would_ keep it that way.

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"Oh, for the Maker's sake. Really, you two? In the dining room?" Aedan's voice, half-amused, half-exasperated, broke through the pleasantly fiery haze Ayla was currently experiencing due to Alistair's mouth being halfway up the inside of her thigh. She sighed as Alistair abruptly jerked his head back, embarrassment washing over the desire he'd been feeling. It hadn't taken her long after the bonding to learn what his embarrassment felt like; it was sort of an odd stinging sensation. She'd had a few opportunities already to experience it firsthand in the weeks since, she reflected, smiling wryly at the memories.

Alistair straightened up, face flaming, and turned towards Aedan, who'd entered through the door that was a little off to the right and just behind where Ayla was currently sitting on the edge of the long, heavy oak table. "Sorry, Aedan," he mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Oops," Ayla said mildly as she shifted the top of her drakescale armor back in place, lacing it together. Alistair's attentions had originally started a little higher up before he'd moved down between her legs. It was a shame that they'd been interrupted; she'd been good and wound up only a moment ago. She still was fairly aroused, but it was at a manageable level now that Alistair's embarrassment had cut through their desire. He was now very studiously not looking at her, she noted, amused, clearly trying to control himself.

Which made sense; this time around it had actually been his fault. She'd come into the dining room looking to get a little bit of food after her sparring session with Zevran before she had to go change into her dress for their wedding. Alistair had been there eating already, and he'd been the one to make the idle comment of how much he was looking forward to seeing her in the wedding dress that Leliana had insisted she get made, and how much more he wanted to take it off her afterwards.

The tone with which he'd said it and the look in his eyes had sent lust snaking all through her body, and she'd felt the immediate heightening of Alistair's desire following that, leading her to tell him that she would need help getting out of her armor first. After that, any hope of control between them had snapped, leading to her current position on top of the dining room table. Not that she regretted it at all, just the interruption. Unlike the Arl, Aedan wouldn't judge them for this, she knew.

"Oops?" Aedan repeated incredulously, coming around to the other side of the table as Ayla slid off the edge. His lips were twitching as he looked between the two of them, shaking his head. "By my count, that's the fourth time you've been caught outside of your room in the past few weeks. And those are just the ones I _know_ about."

"Those _are_ the only ones," Ayla replied, rolling her eyes. "And the first three times were just kissing." Alistair made a slightly strangled coughing noise, and she smirked at him. So, okay, maybe there had been a bit of groping involved too, and the time Zevran had been the one to stumble on them a week ago, her hand might have been inside Alistair's leggings, to his complete mortification. Still, all that was relatively minor compared to what people _could_ have found them doing.

"That may be so," Aedan answered, nodding, though the glance he slid Alistair's way showed that he wasn't completely fooled. "But you realize that you need to get a better handle on this, right? You can't be doing this out on the road."

"We won't be, I swear," Alistair said quickly, shaking his head rapidly. "Do you think I would put her in danger like that?"

"Or that _I_ would put _him_ in danger?" Ayla added, slightly irritated now. She and Alistair had already talked this over and come up with a few ways to control themselves better when they weren't somewhere safe, but since they _were_ , none of that applied right now, as far as she was concerned. "We're working on it, and it's only because we know we're safe here and there's no real consequence beyond embarrassment that we're not controlling it completely."

"Okay, okay." Aedan held up his hands in a calming gesture, obviously sensing her irritation. "Still, the dining room? You couldn't have found somewhere better?" 

"Oh, well, this was a complete accident," Ayla admitted, shrugging. "I had no idea Alistair was here before I came in. We were just getting something to eat." 

Aedan snorted, obviously struggling not to grin. "Oh, I can see that." 

"She means actual food!" Alistair protested, the flush on his face deepening and his embarrassment ratcheting up a few more notches. "See?" He pointed at the plate of half-eaten food he'd abandoned when Ayla had come in, and the plate she'd made next to it that she hadn't touched yet. 

Aedan laughed, clapping Alistair on the back as Ayla shook her head at him, unable to stifle a smile herself. "Don't worry, brother, I'm just teasing. It might be best if the two of you stay separate for the next few hours, though. I don't want to have to be the one to explain to the Revered Mother the reason why you're late for the wedding." 

Alistair sighed, glancing apologetically over at Ayla. "He's right, love." She nodded in agreement; she knew it was probably best if they avoided temptation until after the wedding was done, since they did have a tendency to get carried away lately. 

Alistair crossed over to the table to grab his plate, looking at her. "You said Leliana has your dress in her room?" 

"Yeah, she wants to help me get dressed and do my hair," Ayla replied, shrugging. The bard had been so enthusiastic about it she hadn't been able to say no. 

"All right, I'll take this up to our room then, let you finish eating here and go get changed. I'll see you later, at the altar." He smiled warmly at her, and she felt a rush of love wash over her as he closed the distance between them, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. Clearly conscious of Aedan watching them, he backed up before she could deepen it, casting her another apologetic look, and left the room. 

Ayla crossed her arms as she leaned against the table, frowning at Aedan. "You owe me for that interruption, you know that, right?" 

"Well," Aedan pointed out, smirking, "I am the one who instructed him on how to do that in the first place, remember?" 

"Ah, right, fair point," she conceded, grinning. She'd almost forgotten about that fact. "In that case, we'll call it even. Seriously, though, next time just do me a favor and back out of the room if you see us, okay?" 

"You do know that not everyone will be so accepting of that sort of thing in Ferelden, right?" Aedan asked her, his tone and expression sobering abruptly. 

Ayla shrugged. She knew Aedan was only mentioning it because he was concerned for them, but she no longer cared what others thought of their indiscretions. Alistair was well and truly hers now, and as far as she was concerned, there was no reason to hold back anymore. They were married, or very nearly, and there should be no cause for concern to their reputations. "Honestly, I don't care what anybody else thinks about it. We're married, or we will be in a few hours, and it's no one's business anymore." 

"I suppose you have a point," Aedan agreed. "Just maybe not where everyone eats, then?" She couldn't help but laugh at that, nodding, and he turned to leave as well. "I'll see you there," he added at the door. "And Ayla? Take good care of him, and yourself, when you leave, all right?" 

They had finally received word from Weisshaupt, and planned to leave within the next couple of days for Amaranthine so that Alistair could take his post as the new Warden Commander. Some other Orlesian Wardens had apparently been sent on ahead already, and would be there by the time they reached Amaranthine in a few weeks. Though Ayla was looking forward to getting back in the swing of things, she would miss everyone that they were leaving behind, and she suspected Aedan would be lonely once they'd all gone. She smiled at him. "Of course I will, Aedan. Thanks," she said quietly as he returned her smile before leaving the room himself. 

She sat down at the table to eat her food quickly before going to find Leliana. There was still quite a bit to do in the next few hours before her wedding to Alistair, and it was time she got to it, she decided. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"You look beautiful," Leliana told Ayla, beaming at her as they stopped outside the double doors into the main hall. 

"Thank you," Ayla answered her with a smile, "but it's really all your doing. The dress and the hair were all your ideas." 

"It is not my doing," Leliana protested. "They are merely ways to accentuate your beauty. You are glowing, anyone can see it. Alistair will love it; he will be unable to take his eyes off you, even more so than usual." The bard gave her a sly grin, and Ayla laughed. 

"Well, I hope you're right," she replied, brushing her hands over the skirt of the dress, feeling slightly nervous. "And thank you for the help, really." 

"What are friends for?" Leliana said simply, before opening the doors and slipping through. "I will see you inside." 

Ayla waited outside of the door as the last couple of stragglers passed through into the hall, smiling at her. Alistair was already inside, waiting at the top of the dais by the altar as Aedan had been, in his ceremonial armor. He still wasn't really a fan of it, but when she'd told him that she was, he'd agreed to wear it, not having known what else to wear in any case. She hoped he liked the look of her in the dress as much as she liked the look of him in that armor. 

She glanced down at the dress again as she waited; it was made of white satin that clung to her body, overlaid by silver lace from top to bottom, giving it an ethereal sort of look. Though the satin bodice underneath was low-cut in the front and dipped even lower in the back, the lace had been designed as a sort of over-tunic with long sleeves, covering her skin and yet not at the same time. Leliana had curled her hair, gathering some of it up with a silver comb, while leaving the rest to trail over her back down to her waist in a riot of curls. The only other ornament she wore was Alistair's locket, which she never took off unless absolutely necessary; her ring she'd had to remove so it could be blessed and given back to her during the ceremony. She hoped that the overall effect looked as good as Leliana claimed it did; she couldn't help the slight nerves she felt. 

The doors were finally pushed open from the inside by the guards, and she made her way up the aisle towards Alistair. There was a small crowd gathered on either side, only a fraction of the crowd that had attended Aedan's wedding. All of their companions were there, of course, as well as Fergus, Aedan's brother, and a few other people they had met throughout their travels or befriended here in Denerim. Anora, too, was there, standing by Aedan's side, and Ayla felt a twinge of sadness that it was not Morrigan there; it didn't seem quite right that way. She did her best to push her sadness away at the absence of her sister, focusing instead on Alistair, watching her from the altar. 

His gaze had been fixed on her since she'd entered, and as she got closer, she could see the dazzling smile on his face as he waited for her, and feel the warmth of his love twining around her. There was a little bit of heat spiked through it, as well, but at the moment, it was mainly love and happiness that she felt coming from him as she made her way up the steps, careful not to trip over her skirt, before she joined him at the top. He took her hand in his, beaming down at her, hazel eyes shining, and she smiled up at him in turn. Goddess, but he was so handsome when he smiled like that, she thought a little giddily. 

She paid little attention to what the Revered Mother was saying, only enough to make sure she responded when she needed to, her focus mostly on Alistair throughout the ceremony, and the love she could see and feel coming from him. The ceremony was identical to the one that Aedan had been through just a week before, including the short vow that she and Alistair spoke to one another before returning their rings to each other's fingers. The adoration in his eyes was so clear while he slipped the ring onto her finger once more that she felt a slight blush passing over her cheeks as she did the same, before they knelt for their blessing. 

Finally, the ceremony was over as he pulled her to her feet and the Revered Mother pronounced them husband and wife. Alistair bent his head to kiss her, and she slipped her hands into his short hair, pulling his head down closer to hers as she gave into the urge to taste his mouth thoroughly, not caring who was watching as she sucked on his lower lip, heat flaring through her. He groaned softly, his hands sliding down her back, and just before they reached the swell of her bottom, the Revered Mother cleared her throat loudly, causing some laughter to come from the people below. His hands halted abruptly and Ayla could feel the sudden sting of his embarrassment again as she pulled back reluctantly. 

"Sorry, my love," she whispered, realizing she probably shouldn't have pushed him in front of everyone, but he shook his head, smiling at her, the embarrassment gone as quickly as it had come. 

"Don't worry about it," he murmured back to her, taking her arm and leading her down the stairs towards their friends. "We'll just . . . continue that later." 

After they had spent the appropriate amount of time greeting everyone who had come and participating in the small feast that was set up for them, he was true to his word, taking her promptly back to their room as soon as they could politely manage it and helping her out of the dress as he'd promised, finishing everything that they'd started earlier. 

Later that night, they lay curled in the bed together, Ayla tucked firmly into Alistair's side, her left arm and leg lying over his body while his left arm was wrapped snugly around her waist. She lifted her hand up, studying the ring he'd given her, now safely back where it belonged, and smiled up at him, unable to believe how far they'd come. "Did you ever think this was where we would end up when we first met?" she asked him softly. 

"Maker, no!" he said, shaking his head. "It would never have occurred to me that I would be so lucky. When we first met, I would never have even dared to dream that someone like you would ever want to marry me." She felt the sudden sadness that swept over him at this remark; it was the first time since the bond she'd experienced the feeling, but she knew from the bone-deep, aching cold of the sensation that was what it had to be. Before she could say anything, the feeling was gone, though, and he smiled at her, squeezing her waist. "Obviously, though, I was wrong. I somehow succeeded in charming you into loving me." 

"You did indeed," she replied fondly, smiling back at him. "Besides, I thought I told you that I am the lucky one? Stumbling upon such a handsome, charming man who was so willing to help a complete stranger, despite knowing nothing about me?" 

He frowned down at her thoughtfully. "Speaking of that, I never did keep the promise I made to you that first night, did I? You kept your end of our deal, helping me defeat the Blight, but I never did help you find your way home." 

"Don't be ridiculous," she snorted at him. "Of course you did, you just happened to find me a new home. You know my home is with you now." 

He stared at her in shock for a moment before pulling her up to kiss her fiercely. "You really mean that," he said in wonder as he pulled back, and it was a statement, not a question; she knew he could feel the conviction and love behind her words. "Still, even if you don't want to go back, what about your brother?" 

She felt sadness pass through her at the thought of Mardin, and Alistair squeezed her tighter in response, obviously having identified the feeling as well. Her brother was the only thing that she truly missed from home; the rest of it she was quite certain she could do without. But she had no idea what she could possibly do about it, until a sudden thought struck her. "Well, Flemeth did say I would be able to talk with him again someday. I don't know how, but she hasn't been wrong yet." 

"Then, I'll make you a new promise," Alistair vowed, brushing his lips over her forehead. "I'll help you find your brother, instead, or at least talk to him somehow. Whenever we have the chance, we'll check with everyone we come across, mages, the Circles, anyone we can. Somebody has to have some idea of how we can talk with him." 

"Are you sure?" she asked him, frowning. "You'll have more than enough to do, rebuilding the Wardens –" 

"I'm sure," he interrupted her, firmly. "Anything you need, love, I will find the time to help with, I promise you that." 

"Thank you," she murmured, her heart swelling with gratitude and love for him. "And I will always be by your side, to help you with anything you need, you know that, right? We'll do it all together." 

"Together," he agreed, beaming down at her before dropping another kiss on her lips. "Always." She laid her head back down on his chest afterwards, contentment stealing over her. She was home, and she would find her brother, eventually. Now that she was finally, truly, with Alistair, she felt sure they could deal with anything that came their way, no matter what it might be, together. 


End file.
